THE 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


OF 


HEINRICH  STILLING, 


AULIC  COUNSELLOR  OF  THE  GRAND  DUKE  OF 
BADEN,  &c,  &c.  . 


Eransrtateü  front  tije  ÖKerman  b£  Jacfeson. 


NEW-YORK: 

IJARPER  &  BROTHERS,  82  CLIFF-STREET. 


18  44. 


Price  25  Cents. 


f 


The  Autobiography  of  Heinrich  Stilling, 

Late  Aulic  Counsellor  to  the  Grand-duke  of  Baden,  &c.  Translated  from  the 
German,  by  S.  Jackson.    Price  25  cents. 

OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 


From  Frazer's  Magazine. 
'•  This  book  is  the  most  delightful  in  the  whole  course  of 
German  literature.    It  is  equal,  without  being  an  allegory, 
to  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

Tail's. 

m  Why  has  a  work  so  long  been  withheld,  or  overlooked, 
which  only  requires  to  be  known  to  make  its  way  to  the 
purest  and  soundest  portion  of  the  true  old  heart  of  England, 
and  to  keep  its  place  on  our  parlour  shelves,  somewhere  be- 
tween the  •  Memoirs  of  Oberlin,'  and  those  of  our  own 1  Vic- 
ar of  Wakefield  V  This  may  seem  high  praise  ;  but  it  is 
as  highly  merited.  Let  us  conclude  with  hearty  thanks  to 
Mr.  Jackson,  who  has  given  us  a  book  from  the  German, 
which  ought  to  become  extensively  popular,  and  which  we 
trust  will  long  continue  to  be  admired  by  English  readers, 
from  its  delightful  affinity  with  all  that  is  felt  to  be  the 
finer  parts  of  our  best  national  characteristics." 

Metropolitan. 

"  The  first  part  of  this  book  is  exquisitely  pastoral ;  and 
the  beautiful  simplicity  of  nature  was  never  made  to  appear 
more  beautiful  than  it  does  in  the  unsophisticated  charac- 
ters of  the  Stilling  family.  From  his  youth  upward,  Hein- 
rich seems  to  have  been  marked  by  the  hand  of  God  as  one 
chosen  to  vindicate  his  ways,  and  to  show  how  a  true  Chris- 
tian could  bear  up  against  all  evils,  pass  unscathed  through 
all  trials,  and  meet,  with  pious  resignation,  all  tribulations. 
It  is  a  book  for  the  serious,  and  to  make  the  thoughtless  be- 
come so." 

Evangelical. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  remarkable  production ;  incident  and  di- 
alogue are  wrought  up  together,  in  a  manner  strongly  re- 
sembling the  composition  of  romance  :  yet  we  cannot  doubt 
the  truth  of  the  narrative.  The  story  is  simple  as  the  Pil- 
grim's Progress,  and  fascinating  as  Robinson  Crusoe." 

Monthly  Repository. 
u  The  book  is  one  of  that  species,  the  enjoyment  of  which 
both  implies  and  produces  good  in  the  reader.  It  resembles 
those  simple  scenes  in  nature,  the  charm  of  which  is  sent 
home  to  the  heart  by  the  universal  power  of  nature,  and 
fixes  itself  there  more  firmly  than  can  all  the  violence  of  tor- 
rent, precipice,  and  tempest.  An  indescribable  interest 
pervades  the  volume." 

Printing  Machine.  * 
"  This  is  a  book  not  to  be  talked  about,  but  to  be  fallen 
in  love  with,  and  one,  therefore,  rather  for  readers  than  for 
critics.  It  is  like  a  beautiful  human  countenance,  formed 
to  take  the  hearts  of  all  beholders,  but  which  yet  no  one 
ever  became  enamoured  of  from  the  truest  and  liveliest 
description.  The  book  is  altogether  one  of  the  most  de- 
lightful we  have  ever  read.  On  the  whole,  perhaps,  in  the 
interest  it  excites,  and  the  hold  it  takes  of  the  mind,  it  re- 
minds us  as  much  of  the  effect  of  Robinson  Crusoe  as  of  any 
other  narrative  we  know  ;  but  the  two  differ  in  this,  that 
whereas  Defoe's  work  gives  to  fiction  all  the  life  and  force 
of  fact,  this  charms  us  by  making  fact  as  interesting  and 
poetical  as  fiction.  But  in  Stilling's  life,  the  representation, 
if  less  rich  and  diversified,  has  perhaps  even,  from  its  great- 
er simplicity  and  more  perfect  unity,  that  which  insinuates 
itself  deeper  into  the  heart.  This  is  a  mere  story  of  ordi- 
nary life,  but  told  by  an  extraordinary  mind,  which  sheds 
over  it  of  its  own  beauty,  and  makes  its  stoniest  places  to 
blossom  like  the  rose.  We  feel  that  we  have  met  with  an 
honest  book,  as  we  might  feel  after  having  made  acquaint- 
ance with  a  man,  that  we  had  found  in  him  a  noble  na- 
ture. That  simplicity  of  spirit  which  is  not  ignorance,  but 
the  highest  wisdom,  is  spread  over  every  page  of  the  book 
like  sunlight." 

Spectator. 

u  Heinrich  Stilling  contains  a  complete  picture  of  German 
life  as  exhibited  among  the  better  classes  of  the  peasantry. 
It  also  presents  us  with  a  picture  of  a  singular  and  power- 
ful, if  not  a  first-rate  mind,  and  with  the  struggles  its  own- 
er underwent  in  the  pursuit  of  learning." 

Literary  Gazette. 
"  A  more  perfect  specimen  of  a  style  of  writing  peculiar 
to  Germany  has  never  yet  received  an  English  translation. 
It  is  therefore  a  literary  curiosity." 


Athenatum. 

"As  a  book  of  genuine  and  unaffected  character,  this 
biography  has  been  rarely  surpassed.    The  third  volume 
closes  a  biography  which,  for  its  truth  and  simplicity,  should 
be  acceptable  to  all,  whatsoever  be  their  sect  or  party." 
Sun. 

"  The  first  part  of  the  book  is  strictly  a  prose  pastoral,  ad- 
hering closely  to  nature,  and  furnishing  the  reader  with  de- 
lightful specimens  of  the  better  class  of  German  peasantry. 
The  characters  of  the  author's  family,  and  the  descriptions 
of  his  own  early  wanderings  and  studies,  are  given  with  a 
minuteness  to  which  nothing  but  their  extreme  beauty  and 
delicacy  could  reconcile  us  ;  but,  indeed,  Stilling,  like  our 
own  Goldsmith,  adorns  everything  he  touches— so  fertile  is 
his  fancy,  and  so  picturesque  his  power  of  narration.  It  is 
greatly  to  his  credit,  too,  that  though  his  book  is  impregna- 
ted with  a  strong  religious  feeling,  and  his  scriptural  allu- 
sions are  incessant,  there  is  no  cant  or  affectation  of  supe- 
rior virtue  about  him.  Piety,  in  his  estimation,  is  a  thing 
to  feel,  not  to  talk  about ;  hence  he  recommends  himself  to 
all  classes  of  readers.  *  *  *  But  the  main  charm  of  this 
book  is  its  unaffectedness,  in  which  quality  it  may  vie  even 
with  the  Robinson  Crusoe  of  Defoe." 

Conversations  Lexicon.    English  Edition,  Glasgow,  vol.  iv., 
p.  273. 

"  His  celebrated  work  is  incomparable.  He  relates  with 
modesty  and  simplicity  the  way  in  which  his  life  was  pass- 
ed among  the  classes  of  people  less  favoured  by  extensive 
gifts  of  fortune  ;  and  his  pious  and  pure  heart  discloses  it- 
self so  unaffectedly  and  involuntarily,  and  the  stylo  is  at 
the  same  time  so  excellent,  that  the  work  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  among  the  German  classics." 

Christian  Observer,  Feb.,  1836. 

"  The  translation,  and  not  least  that  of  the  poetry,  is  well 
executed.  Jung,  or,  as  he  is  more  commonly  called,  Stilling, 
was  a  truly  devout  man,  and  unwearied  in  his  labours  to  stem 
the  torrent  of  vice  and  infidelity  that  broke  in  upon  his  na- 
tive land. 

Penny  Cyclopaedia. 
"  It  was  at  Goethe's  suggestion  that  he  wrote  his  inter- 
esting Autobiography,  to  whom  he  had  often  related  it.  As 
a  writer  he  was  very  popular." 


EXTRACTS  FROM  FOREIGN  NOTICES. 

From  Goe~the's  Autobiography. 
"  Among  the  new-comers,  there  was  one  who  particularly 
interested  me  ;  his  name  was  Jung,  and  is  the  same  who 
was  afterward  known  under  the  appellation  of  Stilling.  On 
becoming  more  intimately  acquainted  with  him,  he  was 
found  to  possess  a  sound  understanding,  which,  reposing 
upon  the  mind,  suffered  itself  to  be  governed  by  inclinations 
and  passions  ;  and  from  this  very  mind  arose  an  enthusiasm 
for  all  that  is  good,  right,  and  true,  in  the  utmost  possible 
purity  :  for  his  course  of  life  had  been  very  simple,  and  yet 
had  abounded  with  events,  and  a  manifold  activity.  The 
element  of  his  energy  was  an  impregnable  faith  in  God,  and 
in  an  assistance  immediately  proceeding  from  Him,  which 
obviously  justified  itself  in  an  uninterrupted  provision,  and 
an  infallible  deliverance  from  every  distress,  and  every  evil. 
Jung  had  experienced  numerous  instances  of  this  kind  in 
his  fife,  and  they  had  recently  been  frequently  repeated  ;  so 
that  though  he  led  a  frugal  life,  yet  it  was  without  care  and 
with  the  greatest  cheerfulness  ;  and  he  applied  himself  most 
diligently  to  his  studies,  although  he  could  not  reckon  upon 
any  certain  subsistence  from  one  quarter  of  a  year  to  an- 
other. I  urged  HIM  TO  write  HIS  LIFE,  and  he  promised 
to  do  so." 

Mathison's  Letters,  Part  I. 
"  Stilling,  far  from  throwing  too  brilliant  a  light  upon  the 
picture  of  his  life,  has,  on  the  contrary,  placed  manv  things, 
and  invariably  those  which  are  precisely  the  most' honour- 
able to  his  spirit  and  his  heart,  in  a  dubious  and  uncertain 
light.  He  has  preserved  in  it  many  an  excellent  popular 
ballad." 

Conversations  Lexicon. 
"  He  has  described  the  greatest  part  of  his  life,  without 
fictitious  embellishments,  in  the  celebrated  work, '  Heinrich 
Stilling's  Childhood,  Youthful  Years,  and  Wanderings.'  in 
a  manner  which  completely  corresponds  with  his  mental 
and  piously  poetic  character." 


THE 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF 

HEINRICH  STILLING, 

LATE 

AULIC  COUNSELLOR  TO  THE  GRAND  DUKE  OF  BADEN, 

&c,  &c.,  &C. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  BY  S,  JACKSON. 


NEW- YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 
No.  82  Cliff- Street. 

18  44. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


There  is  a  species  of  confidence  felt  in 
introducing  to  the  notice  of  the  public  any 
foreign  work  which  has  been  well  received 
and  frequently  reprinted  in  the  original, 
especially  when  it  has  been  thought  wor- 
thy of  translation  into  other  languages  ; 
and  this  confidence  is  considerably  aug- 
mented, when  the  object  of  the  work  is 
such  as  the  translator  can  most  cordially 
recommend  to  his  readers,  and  when  moral 
and  religious  instruction  is  conveyed  in  its 
most  striking  and  attractive  form. 

The  translator  experiences  this  confi- 
dence, in  a  high  degree,  with  reference  to 
the  work  he  has  now  the  pleasure  of  laying 
before  the  public.  It  is  the  biography  of 
no  every-day  character ;  but  of  one  who, 
from  the  lowest  ranks  of  society,  rose  to  a 
station  of  eminent  usefulness,  like  some 
brilliant  star,  which,  gradually  emerging 
from  a  cloudy  horizon,  increases  in  bright- 
ness the  nearer  it  approaches  its  meridian, 
and  gives  light  to  many  a  way-worn  and 
benighted  traveller  on  his  dubious  path. 
In  describing  his  own  remarkable  history, 
the  author  has  developed  such  a  beautiful 
and  indubitable  guidance  of  Providence,  as 
should  put  unbelief  to  the  blush,  and  prove 
highly  encouraging  to  all  who  are  placed 
in  similarly  trying  circumstances. 

And  here  the  translator  cannot  avoid  the 
remark,  which,  indeed,  will  be  obvious  to 
every  reflecting  mind,  that  a  memoir  of 
any  individual  written  by  himself,  is  much 
more  intrinsically  valuable  than  one  that 
proceeds  from  the  pen  of  another  person. 
For  unless  the  latter  content  himself  with 
a  bare  statement  of  facts — which,  however 
striking,  afford  only  a  certain  degree  of 
interest — being  necessarily  ignorant  of  the 
hidden  workings  of  the  heart  and  mind,  he 
is  obliged  to  supply  the  motives  which  he 
supposes  to  have  actuated  the  individual ; 
and  which,  since  the  minds  of  men  are  as 
various  as  their  countenances,  are  seldom 
according  to  truth.  Hence  it  is,  that  such 
memoirs  very  frequently  convey  more  of 
the  spirit  of  the  biographer,  than  of  the  in- 
dividual whose  life  is  narrated;  so  that 
those  who  have  personally  known  the  lat- 


ter, are  scarcely  able  to  recognize  him  in 
his  strange  attire. 

But  the  life  of  Heinrich  Stilling  possess- 
es another  advantage,  which  must  not  be 
overlooked.  It  was  written,  in  the  first 
instance,  under  an  assumed  name,  and 
scarcely  with  the  intention  of  being  made 
public.  Hence  the  author  felt  himself 
more  at  liberty  to  draw  a  faithful  portrait, 
both  as  regards  his  interior  and  exterior 
life,  without  regard  to  the  praise  or  cen- 
sure that  might  be  bestowed  upon  him. 
It  subsequently  became  known,  indeed,, 
that  he  was  the  author  of  it ;  but  the  scenes 
of  humiliation  through  which  he  had  pass- 
ed, had  too  deeply  abased  him  in  his  own 
esteem  to  permit  him  to  feel  elated,  even 
from  the  deserved  honours  he  so  abundant- 
ly received  ;  ana  ^hen,  at  the  close,  he 
throws  off  his  disguise,  and  appears  before 
the  reader  under  his  real  na«^,  it  is  only 
to  place  himself  in  as  humble  a  point  of 
view  as  possible,  in  order  that  all  the  git^y 
and  the  praise  may  be  rendered  unto  Him,, 
to  whom  he  considered  them  so  justly  due. 

The  remark  made  above,  with  reference 
to  autobiography,  may  be  also  correctly 
applied  to  the  mode  of  translation.  If,  in 
order  to  preserve  a  certain  elegance  of 
style  and  fluency  of  expression,  the  trans- 
lator takes  the  liberty  of  remodelling  every* 
sentence,  and  clothing  the  author's  ideas- 
in  language  of  his  own,  he  will  certainly  fail 
of  conveying  the  true  spirit  of  the  original, 
and  therefore  seldom  succeed  in  satisfy- 
ing the  reader.  The  translator,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  judgment  of  a  late  eminent 
writer,  has  acted  upon  the  opposite  princi- 
ple, and  has  sought  only  to  give  a  faithful 
version  of  his  author,  so  far  as  the  differ- 
ence in  the  idiom  of  the  language  would 
permit.  In  a  work  like  the  present,  in 
consequence  of  the  familiar  mode  of  ex- 
pression so  frequently  employed,  the  diffi- 
culty is  so  much  the  greater;  and  the 
translator  must  therefore  cast  himself 
upon  the  lenity  of  his  readers,  and  intreat 
in  this  instance  the  indulgence  which  has 
been  extended  to  his  former  labours. 

January  31st,  1835. 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


PART  I. 

HEINRICH  STILLING'S  CHILDHOOD. 


CHAPTER  I.  I 

There  is,  in  Westphalia,  a  diocese,  which 
aies  in  a  very  mountainous  district,  whose  sum- 
mits overlook  many  little  provinces  and  princi- 
palities. The  village  in  which  the  church  is  sit- 
uate is  called  Florenburgh;  for  the  inhabitants 
have  long  had  a  disgust  at  the  name  of  a  village, 
and,  therefore,  although  compelled  to  live  by 
farming  and  grazing,  have  always  sought  to 
maintain  a  superiority  over  their  neighbours, 
who  are  mere  peasants ;  and  who  say  of  them, 
that  they  have  gradually  expelled  the  name  of 
Florendorf,*  and  introduced  that  of  Floren- 
burght  in  its  stead.  But,  be  that  as  it  may,  it 
certainly  possesses  a  magistracy,  the  head  of 
which,  in  my  time,  was  Johannes  Henricus 
Scultetus.  Rude  and  ignorant  people  called  him, 
out  of  the  town-house,  Maister  Hans  ;  but  hon- 
est townspeople  were  also  wont  to  say,  Mister 
Schulde. 

A  league  from  this  place,  towards  the  south- 
west, lies  the  little  village  of  Tiefenbach,  so  call- 
ed from  its  situation  between  hills,  at  the  feet  of 
which  the  houses  overhang  the  water  on  both 
sides,  which,  flowing  from  the  valleys  to  the 
south  and  north,  meets  just  in  the  deepest  and 
narrowest  part,  where  it  forms  a  river.  The 
eastern  hill  is  called  the  Giller;  it  rises  perpen- 
dicularly, and  its  flat  side,  turned  towards  the 
west,  is  thickly  covered  with  beech-trees.  From 
thence  there  is  a  prospect  over  fields  and  mead- 
ows, which  is  bounded  on  both  sides  by  lofty 
and  connected  mountains.  They  are  entirely 
planted  with  oak  and  beech-trees,  and  no  open- 
ing is  visible,  except  where  a  boy  may  be  fre- 
quently seen  driving  an  ox,  and  gathering  fire- 
wood on  his  half-trodden  path. 

Below  the  northern  hill,  called  the  Geisenberg, 
which  ascends  towards  the  clouds  like  a  sugar- 
loaf,  and  on  whose  summit  lie  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  castle,  stands  a  house  in  which  Stilling's 
parents  and  forefathers  dwelt. 

About  thirty  years  ago,  there  lived  in  it  an  old 
man,  named  Eberhard  Stilling,  a  peasant,  and 
burner  of  charcoal.  During  the  whole  of  the 
summer  he  remained  in  the  woods,  and  made 
charcoal ;  but  went  home  once  a  week  to  look- 
after  his  family,  and  to  furnish  himself  with  pro- 
visions for  another  week.  He  generally  came 
home  on  the  Saturday  evening,  in  order  that  on 
the  Sunday  he  might  go  to  church  at  Floren- 
burgh, where  he  was  one  of  the  churchwardens. 
In  this  consisted  the  chief  business  of  his  life. 
He  had  six  grown-up  children,  of  whom  the  eld- 
est two  were  sons,  and  the  others  daughters. 

Once,  as  Eberhard  was  descending  the  hill, 
and  contemplating,  with  the  utmost  composure, 

*  Dorf,  a  village.  t  Burgh,  a  town 


I  the  setting  sun,  while  whistling  the  tune  of  the 
hymn, 

"  The  sun  its  glorious  course  has  run," 

and  reflecting  upon  the  subject,  he  was  overta- 
ken by  his  neighbour  Stahler,  who  was  walk- 
ing a  little  quicker,  and  probably  did  not  trouble 
himself  much  about  the  setting  sun.  After  pro- 
ceeding a  while  close  behind  him,  and  hem- 
ming several  times  in  vain,  Stahler  commenced 
a  conversation,  which  I  must  here  insert  verba- 
tim. 

Stahler. — "Good  evening,  Ebert!" 
Stilling. — "  Thank  you,  Stahler!"  (continuing 
to  whistle.) 

Stahler. — "If  the  weather  continues  thus,  we 
shall  soon  be  ready  with  our  woods.  I  think  we 
shall  finish  in  three  weeks." 

Stilling. — M  May  be"  (whistling  again). 
Stahler. — "  I  am  no  longer  so  able  as  I  was, 
lad  !    I  am  already  sixty-eight  years  old,  and 
thou  art  near  seventy." 

Stilling. — "  That's  very  likely.  There  sets 
the  sun  behind  the  hill;  I  cannot  sufficiently  re- 
joice at  the  goodness  and  love  of  God.  I  was 
just  thinking  about  it;  it  is  likewise  evening 
with  us,  neighbour  Stahler !  The  shades  of 
death  rise  daily  nearer  us;  he  will  surprise  us 
before  we  are  aware.  I  must  thank  Eternal 
Goodness,  which  has  sustained,  preserved,  and 
provided  for  me  so  bountifully,  not  only  to-day, 
but  all  my  life  long." 
Stahler— " That's  probable  !" 
Stilling.—1'  I  wait  also,  really  without  lear,  lor 
the  important  moment  when  I  shall  be  delivered 
from  this  cumbersome,  old,  and  stiffening  body, 
and  be  able  to  associate  with  the  souls  of  my 
forefathers,  and  other  holy  men,  in  a  state  of  eter- 
nal rest.  There  I  shall  find  Doctor  Luther,  Cal- 
vin, CEcolampadius,  Bucer,  and  others,  in  whose 
praise  our  late  pastor,  Mr.  Winterbergh,  has  so 
often  spoken  to  me,  and  said  that,  next  to  the 
Apostles,  they  were  the  most  pious  of  men." 

Stabler. — "  That's  possible  !  But  tell  me, 
Ebert,  hast  thou  known  the  people  thou  hast  just 
mentioned  V 

Stilling.—"  How  foolishly  thou  talkest !  They 
have  been  dead  above  two  hundred  years." 
Stahler. — "So!  that's  surprising!" 
Stilling. — "  Besides,  all  my  children  are  grown 
up ;  they  have  learned  to  read  and  write,  they 
are  able  to  earn  their  bread,  and  will  soon  need 
neither  me  nor  my  Margaret." 

Slahler.—"  Need  !  that's  easily  said  !  How 
soon  may  a  girl  or  boy  go  astray,  attach  them- 
selves, perhaps,  to  poor  people,  and  cause  a  slur 
upon  their  family,  when  their  parents  can  no 
longer  attend  to  them  !" 
Stilling.    ,:  I  am  not  afraid  of  all  that.  God 


4 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


be  thanked,  that  my  attention  to  them  is  not  ne- 
cessary. By  my  instructions  and  example,  I 
have,  through  God's  blessing,  implanted  in  my 
children  such  an  abhorrence  of  that  which  is 
evil,  that  1  have  no  further  occasion  to  fear." 

Stahler  laughed  heartily — just  as  a  fox  would 
laugh,  if  he  could,  that  had  carried  off  a  pullet  in 
spite  of  the  watchful  chanticleer — and  continu- 
ed: "Ebert,  thou  hast  much  confidence  in  thy 
children ;  but  I  think  thou  wilt  change  thy  tone 
when  I  tell  thee  all  that  I  know." 

Stilling  turned  about,  stood  still,  leaned  upon 
his  axe,  smiled  with  the  most  contented  and  con- 
fident countenance,  and  said,  "  What  dost  thou 
know,  Stahler,  that  would  so  pain  me  to  the 
soul  ?" 

Stahlcr. — "Hast  thou  heard,  neighbour  Still- 
ing, that  thy  son  Wilhelm,  the  schoolmaster,  is 
about  to  marry  1" 

Stilling. — "  No,  I  know  nothing  of  it  yet." 

Stahle/: — "  Then  I  will  tell  thee,  that  he  ia- 
tends  to  have  the  daughter  of  the  ejected  preach- 
er, Moritz,  of  Lichthausen,  and  that  they~are  al- 
ready betrothed." 

Stilling. — "  That  they  are  betrothed,  is  not 
true ;  but  it  may  be  that  he  intends  to  have  her." 

They  now  went  on  further. 

Stahler.— " Can  that  be,  Ebert?  Canst  thou 
suffer  that  ?  Canst  thou  give  thy  son  to  a  beg- 
gar-woman, that  has  nothing'?" 

Slitting. — "The  honest  man's  children  have 
never  begged  ;  and  if  they  had  ?  But  which 
daughter  is  it?  Moritz  has  two  daughters." 

Stahler.—"  Doris." 

Stilling. — "  1  am  willing  to  end  my  days  with 
Doris.  1  shall  never  forget  it.  She  came  to 
me,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  saluted  me  and  Mar- 
garet from  her  father,  sat  down,  and  was  silent. 
1  saw  in  her  eyes  what  she  wanted,  but  1  read 
from  her  cheeks  that  she  could  not  tell  it.  I  ask- 
ed her  if  she  needed  any  thing.  She  was  silent, 
and  sighed.  I  went  and  fetched  her  four  rix- 
dollars!  '  There !'  said  I,  '  I  will  lend  you  this, 
till  you  can  pay  me  again.'  " 

Stahler. — "  Thou  mightest  as  well  have  given 
her  them  ;  thou  wilt  never  have  them  again,  as 
long  as  thou  livest." 

Slilling.—"  It  was,  in  fact,  my  intention  to 
give  her  the  money;  but  if  1  had  told  her  so,  the 
girl  would  have  been  still  more  ashamed.  'Ah,' 
said  she,  'kindest,  dearest  father  Slilling!  (the 
good  girl  wept  heartfelt  tears;)  when  I  see  how 
my  old  papa  mumbles  his  dry  bread  in  his 
mouth,  and  cannot  chew  it,  my  heart  bleeds.' 
My  Margaret  ran  and  fetched  a  large  jug  of 
sweet  milk;  and  she  has  ever  since  sent  them 
sweet  milk  two  or  three  times  a  week." 

Stahler.— "  And  thou  canst  suffer  thy  son  Wil- 
helm to  have  the  girl  ?" 

Stilling.— •"  If  he  will  have  her,  with  all  my 
heart.  Healthy  people  are  able  to  earn  some- 
thing; rich  people  may  lose  what  they  have." 

Stahler. — "  Thou  saidst  before,  that  thou  didst 
not  know  any  thing  of  it.  Yet  thou  knowest,  as 
thou  sayest,  that  they  are  not  yet  betrothed." 

Stilling.—"  I  am  confident  of  it !  He  will  cer- 
tainly ask  me  first." 

Siahler,—"  Hear !  hear !  He  ask  thee  ?  Yes, 
thou  mayest  wait  long  enough  for  that." 

Stilling.—"  Stahler !  I  know  my  Wilhelm.  I 
have  always  told  my  children  they  might  marry 
as  rich  or  as  poor  as  they  would  or  they  could, 
and  that  they  should  only  have  regard  to  indus- 
try and  piety.  My  Margaret  had  nothing,  and 
1  a  farm  burdened  with  debt.    God  has  blessed 


me,  so  that  I  can  give  each  of  them  a  hundred 

guilders,  cash  down." 

Slahler. — "  I  am  not  a  Mr.  Indifferent,  like 
thee.  I  must  know  what  I  do,  and  my  children 
shall  marry  as  I  find  best." 

"Every  one  makes  his  shoe  according  to  his 
own  last,"  said  Stilling.  He  was  now  before 
his  house-door.  Margaret  Stilling  had  already 
sent  her  daughters  to  bed.  A  piece  of  pancake 
stood  for  her  Ebert  in  an  earthen  dish,  on  the  hot 
ashes ;  she  had  also  added  a  little  butter  to  it. 
A  pitcher  of  milk  and  bread  stood  on  the  bench, 
and  she  began  to  be  anxious  about  her  husband's 
long  delay.  At  length,  the  latch  of  the  door  rat- 
tled, and  he  entered.  She  took  his  linen  wallet 
from  his  shoulder,  spread  the  table,  and  brought 
him  his  supper.  "  Strange,"  said  Margaret, 
"  that  Wilhelm  is  not  here  yet !  I  hope  no  mis- 
fortune has  happened  to  him.  Are  there  any 
wolves  about?"  "What  of  that?"  said  father 
Stilling,  and  laughed,  for  so  he  was  wont;  he 
often  laughed  loudly,  when  he  was  quite  alone. 

The  schoolmaster,  Wilhelm  Stilling,  now  en- 
tered the  room.    After  saluting  his  parents  with 
a  good  evening,  he  sat  down  upon  the  bench, 
rested  his  cheek  upon  his  hand,  and  was  thought- 
ful.   It  was  long  before  he  said  a  word.  Old 
Stilling  picked  his  teeth  with  a  knife,  for  such 
was  his  custom  after  meals,  even  though  he  had 
eaten  no  flesh-meat.    At  length  the  mother  be- 
gan :  "Wilhelm,  I  was  afraid  something  had 
happened  to  thee,  because  thou  art  so  late." 
Wilhelm  answered,  "Oh,  mother!  there  was  no- 
need  of  that.    My  father  often  says,  he  that  is  in 
the  line  of  duty  need  fear  nothing."    He  then 
became  pale  and  red  by  turns ;  at  length,  he 
broke  out,  and  said,  with  a  faltering  voice — "At 
Lichthausen  (for  so  the  place  was  called  where 
he  kept  a  school,  and  made  clothes  at  the  same 
time  for  the  peasants,)  there  dwells  a  poor  eject- 
ed preacher;  I  am  inclined  to  marry  his  elder 
daughter.    If  you,  my  parents,  are  both  satis- 
fied, there  will  be  no  further  hindrance."   "  Wil- 
helm," answered  his  father,  "thou  art  twenty- 
three  years  old;  I  have  had  thee  taught;  thou 
hast  knowledge  enough,  but  canst  not  help  thy- 
self forward  in  the  world,  for  thou  hast  lame  feet. 
The  damsel  is  poor,  and  not  accustomed  to  hard 
labour:  how  dost  thou  think  of  maintaining  thy- 
self in  future?"    The  schoolmaster  answered, 
"My  trade  will  support  me;  and  with  regard  to 
the  rest,  I  will  resign  myself  entirely  to  Divine 
providence,  which  will  provide  for  me  and  my 
Doris,  as  well  as  for  the  birds  of  the  air." 
"What  sayest  thou,  Margaret?"  said  the  old 
man.    "  Hem  !  what  should  I  say  ?"  rejoined 
she;  "dost  thou  remember  what  answer  I  gave 
thee,  during  our  courtship?    Let  us  take  Wil- 
helm and  his  wife  into  the  house  with  us,  where 
he  may  carry  on  his  trade.    Doris  shall  assist 
me  and  my  daughters,  as  much  as  she  is  able. 
She  can  always  learn  something,  for  she  is  still 
young.    They  may  take  their  meals  with  us; 
what  he  earns  he  shall  give  us,  and  we  will  pro- 
vide them  both  with  what  is  needful;  this  seems 
to  me  the  best  way."    "If  thou  thinkest  so,"  re- 
plied ftther  Stilling,  "he  may  fetch  the  damsel 
home.  Wilhelm  !  Wilhelm !  think  of  what  thou 
art  doing  ;  it  is  no  trifling  matter.    The  God  of 
thy  fathers  bless  thee  with  all  that  thou  and  thy 
maiden  require."    The  tears  stood  in  Wilhelm's 
eyes;  he  shook  his  father  and  mother  by  the 
hand,  promised  them  all  fidelity,  and  went  to 
bed.    And  after  old  Stilling  had  sung  his  even- 
ing hymn,  fastened  the  door  with  a  wooden  bolt, 


S  T I  L  L I  N  G'S 

and  Margaret  had  been  to  see  the  kine,  whether 
they  all  lay  and  ruminated,  they  also  went  to  bed. 

Wilhelm  entered  his  chamber,  to  which  there 
was  only  a  shutter,  which  did  not,  however,  shut 
so  closely  as  not  to  admit  so  much  of  the  day  to 
glimmer  through  as  to  make  it  evident  when  it 
was  time  to  rise.  This  window  was  still  open ; 
ne,  therefore,  stepped  towards  it ;  it  looked  di- 
rectly towards  the  forest;  all  was  profoundly 
still,  except  where  two  nightingales  sang  most 
sweetly.  This  had  often  served  as  a  hint  to 
"Wilhelm.  He  sank  down  by  the  wall.  "  O 
God !"  sighed  he,  "  I  thank  thee  for  having  given 
me  such  parents.  O  that  I  may  cause  them  joy  ! 
Let  me  never  be  burdensome  to  them.  I  thank 
thee,  that  thou  art  giving  me  a  virtuous  wife. 

0  bless  me !"  His  tears  and  his  emotions  im- 
peded his  words,  and  his  heart  spoke  untterable 
things,  which  only  those  can  know  who  have 
themselves  been  in  similar  circumstances. 

No  one  ever  slept  more  sweetly  than  the 
schoolmaster.  His  inward  felicity  awoke  him 
in  the  morning  earlier  than  usual.  He  arose, 
went  into  the  wood,  and  renewed  all  the  holy 
resolutions  he  had  ever  formed  dufing  his  life. 
At  seven  o'clock  he  went  home  again,  and  ate 
his  breakfast  of  milk  pottage  and  bread  and  but- 
ter. After  the  father  had  first  shorn  his  beard, 
and  then  the  son,  while  the  mother  consulted 
with  the  daughters  which  of  them  should  remain 
at  home  and  which  should  go  to  church,  they 
dressed  themselves.  All  this  was  finished  in 
half  an  hour;  the  daughters  then  went  before,. 
Wilhelm  followed  them,  and  last  of  all  the  father, 
with  his  thick  thorn  stick.  When  old  Stilling 
went  out  with  his  children,  they  were  always 
obliged  to  go  before  him,  that  he  might  observe 
their  gait  and  manners,  and  instruct  them  in 
propriety  of  behaviour. 

After  sermon,  Wilhelm  went  again  to  Licht- 
hausen,  where  he  was  schoolmaster,  and  where 
his  elder  married  brother,  Johann  Stilling,  also 
dwelt.  Mr.  Moritz,  the  old  clergyman,  with  his 
two  daughters,  had  hired  a  couple  of  rooms  in  a 
neighbouring  house,  in  which  he  resided.  After 
Wilhelm  had  read  a  sermon  to  his  peasantry,  in 
the  chapel,  in  the  afternoon,  and  sung  a  hymn 
with  them  according  to  ancient  usage,  he  hast- 
ened to  Mr.  Moritz's,  as  fast  as  his  lame  feet 
would  permit.  The  old  man  had  just  sat  down 
to  his  harpsichord,  and  was  playing  a  hymn 
tune.  His  morning-gown  was  very  clean,  and 
beautifully  washed ;  there  was  not  a  rent  to  be 
seen  in  it,  but  certainly  at  least  a  hundred  patch- 
es. Near  him,  on  a  chest,  sat  Dorothy,  a  girl 
of  two-and-twenty  years  of  age,  likewise  very 
cleanly,  though  poorly  clad,  who  very  sweetly 
sang  the  hymn  to  her  father's  tune.  She  beck- 
oned to  Wilhelm  with  a  cheerful  smile ;  he  sat 
down  by  her,  and  sang  with  her,  out  of  her  book. 
As  soon  as  the  hymn  was  finished,  the  clergy- 
man saluted  Wilhelm,  and  said,  "  Schoolmaster, 

1  am  never  better  pleased  than  when  I  play  and 
sing.  When  I  was  a  preacher,  I  often  let  the 
people  sing  a  long  time ;  because  in  the  union  of 
so  many  voices  the  heart  soars  far  away  above 
every  thing  earthly.  But  1  must  now  speak  to 
you  of  something  else.  My  daughter  Doris 
stammered  out  to  me  yesterday  evening,  that 
she  loves  you ;  but  I  am  poor ;  what  do  your 
parents  say  ?"  "  They  are  heartily  satisfied  with 
it,"  answered  Wilhelm.  The  tears  burst  from 
the  bright  eyes  of  Dorothy,  and  the  venerable 
old  man,  standing  up,  took  his  daughter's  right 
hand,  gave  it  to  Wilhelm,  and  said,  "I  have 


CHILDHOOD.  5 

nothing  in  the  world  but  two  daughters;  this 
one  is  the  apple  of  my  eye;  take  her,  son!  take 
her  !"  He  wept.  "  May  the  blessing  of  Jeho- 
vah descend  upon  you,  and  make  you  blessed  in 
the  presence  ol  Him  and  his  saints,  and  blessed 
in  the  sighf  of  the  world  !  May  your  children 
be  real  Christians,  and  your  posterity  be  great ! 
May  their  names  stand  written  in  the  book  of 
life  !  My  whole  life  has  been  devoted  to  God  ; 
I  have  pursued  my  course  with  much  weakness, 
but  without  offence,  and  have  loved  all  men;  be 
this  your  rule  of  lile  also,  so  shall  my  remains 
rest  in  peace  !"  Here  he  wiped  his  eyes.  The 
two  lovers  kissed  his  hands,  his  cheek,  and  his 
lips ;  and  afterwards  each  other  also,  for  the 
first  time,  and  then  sat  down  again.  The  old 
gentleman  now  began  as  follows :  "  But  hast 
thou  not  observed,  Doris,  that  thy  future  hus- 
band has  lame  feet'?"  "Yes,  papa,"  said  she, 
"  I  have  seen  it ;  but  then  he  speaks  to  me  so 
kindly  and  piously  that  I  seldom  pay  attention 
to  his  feet." 

"Well,  Doris,  but  young  women  generally 
look  at  a  man's  figure." 

"I  too,  papa,"  was  her  answer;  "but  Wil- 
helm pleases  me  just  as  he  is.  If  he  had  straight 
feet,  he  would  not  be  Wilhelm  Stilling,  and  how 
'could  I  love  him  then  V' 

The  clergyman  smiled  contentedly,  and  con- 
tinued: "Thou  must  this  evening  provide  us 
with  something  to  eat ;  for  thy  bridegroom  must 
sup- with  thee."  "I  have  nothing,"  said  the  in- 
nocent girl,  "  but  a  little  milk,  cheese,  and  bread ; 
and  who  knows  whether  Wilhelm  will  be  satis- 
fied with  HT  "Yes,"  rejoined  Wilhelm,  "eat- 
ing a  piece  of  dry  bread  with  you,  is  pleasanter 
than  thick  milk  with  white  bread  and  pancakes." 
Mr.  Moritz  meanwhile  put  on  his  worn-out 
brown  coat,  with  black  buttons  and  button-holes, 
took  his  old  japanned  cane,  and  went  out,  say- 
ing, "  I  will  go  to  the  justice's  deputy  ;  he  will 
lend  me  his  gun,  and  I  will  then  see  if  I  cannot 
shoot  something."  This  he  did  frequently ;  for 
he  had  been  a  friend  of  the  chase  in  his  youth. 

Our  two  lovers  were  now  alone,  and  this  was 
what  they  wished.  When  he  was  gone,  they 
took  hold  of  each  other's  hands,  sat  down  to- 
gether, and  told  each  other  what  each  had  felt, 
spoken,  and  done,  since  they  became  fond  of 
each  other.  As  soon  as  they  had  done,  they 
began  again  at  the  commencement,  and  gave 
the  tale  a  variety  of  turns,  so  that  it  was  always 
new — tedious  to  every  one  else,  but  not  so  to 
them. 

Frederica,  Moritz's  other  daughter,  interrupt- 
ed their  enjoyment.  She  burst  into  the  room, 
singing  an  old  ballad.  On  seeing  them  she  start- 
ed. "  Do  I  disturb  you  1"  asked  she.  "  Thou 
never  disturbest  me,"  said  Doris,  "  for  I  never 
attend  to  what  thou  sayest  or  doest."  "Yes, 
thou  art  pious."  rejoined'the  other;  "  but  darest 
thou  sit  so  near  the  schoolmaster  %  It  is  true, 
he  is  also  pious."  "  And  besides  that,  thy  future 
brother-in-law,"  interrupted  Doris ;  "  we  have 
been  this  day  betrothed  to  each  other."  "  There 
will  be  therefore  a  wedding  for  me,"  said  Fred- 
erica,  and  skipped  out  of  the  door  again. 

While  they  were  sitting  together  thus  pleas- 
antly, Freden'ca  burst  violently  into  the  room 
again.  "  Oh  !"  cried  she,  stammering ;  "  they 
are  bringing  my  father  bleeding  into  the  village. 
Jost,  the  gamekeeper,  is  striking  him  incessant- 
ly, and  three  of  the  squire's  men  are  dragging 
him  along.  Ah,  they  will  beat  him  to  death  !" 
Doris  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and  flew  out  of  the 


6  HEI  N  RICH 

door.  Wilhelm  hastened  after  her,  but  the  good 
man  could  not  run  so  fast  as  she.  His  brother 
Johann  dwelt  close  to  Mr.  Moritz ;  him  he  call- 
ed to  his  assistance.  These  two  then  went  to- 
wards the  noise.  They  found  Moritj  in  the  inn, 
sitting  on  a  chair,  his  grey  hair  clotted  with 
blood  ;  the  servant-men  and  the  gamekeeper 
stood  round  him,  swore,  mocked,  shook  their 
fists  in  his  face,  and  a  snipe  that  had  been  shot 
lay  before  Moritz  on  the  table.  The  impartial 
landlord  quietly  served  them  with  liquor.  Fred- 
erica  begged  suppliantly  for  mercy,  and  Doris 
for  a  little  spirit  to  wash  her  father's  head ;  but 
she  had  no  money  to  pay  for  it,  and  the  loss 
would  have  been  too  great  for  the  landlord  to 
have  given  her  half  a  glass.  But  as  women  are 
naturally  merciful,  the  landlady  brought  up 
some  in  a  piece  of  broken  pot  which  had  stood 
under  the  tap  of  the  gin  cask,  and  with  it  Doris 
washed  her  father's  head.  Moritz  had  already 
repeatedly  said  that  the  squire  had  given  him 
permission  to  shoot  as  much  as  he  pleased ;  but 
he  was,  unfortunately,  at  that  time  from  home  ; 
the  old  gentleman  therefore  was  silent,  and  of- 
fered no  further  excuse.  Things  were  in  this 
situation  when  the  brothers  Stilling  entered  the 
inn.  The  first  revenge  they  took  was  on  a  glass 
of  gin,  with  which  the  landlord  was  coming  out 
of  the  cellar,  and  carrying  very  carefully,  lest 
any  of  it  should  be  spilled  ;  although  this  pre- 
caution was  not  very  necessary,  for  the  glass 
was  above  a  quarter  empty.  Johann  Stilling 
slruck  the  landlord  over  the  hand,  so  that  the 
glass  flew  against  the  wall,  and  broke  into  a 
thousand  pieces.  But  Wilhelm,  who  was  al- 
ready in  the  room,  seized  his  father-in-law  by 
the  hand  and  led  him  out  of  it  in  silence,  with 
as  much  gravity  as  if  he  had  been  the  squire 
himself,  without  saying  any  thing  to  any  one. 
The  gamekeeper  and  the  servants  threatened 
and  held  him,  first  in  one  place  and  then  an- 
other ;  but  Wilhelm,  who  was  as  much  strong- 
er in  his  arms  as  he  was  weaker  in  his  feet,  saw 
and  heard  nothing,  continued  silent,  and  labour- 
ed but  to  get  Moritz  loose  ;  wherever  he  found 
a  clenched  hand  he  broke  it  open,  and  thus  he 
brought  him  out  of  the  door.  Johann  Stilling, 
meanwhile,  spoke  with  the  gamekeeper  and  the 
servant  men,  and  his  words  were  daggers  to 
them;  for  every  one  knew  how  high  he  stood  in 
the  squire's  esteem,  and  how  often  he  went  to 
sup  with  him. 

The  affair  at  length  terminated  thus :  at  the 
return  of  the  squire,  the  gamekeeper  was  dis- 
missed, and  Moritz  received  twenty  dollars  for 
the  pain  he  had  suffered. 

What  helped  them  the  more  quickly  through, 
■was  that  the  whole  place  before  the  house  was 
filled  with  peasants,  who  stood  there  smoking 
tobacco,  and  making  themselves  merry  with  the 
sight;  and  it  only  depended  upon  one  of  them 
putting  the  question  whether  their  rights  had 
not  been  encroached  upon  by  this  affair,  and  a 
hundred  fists  would  have  been  ready,  all  on  a 
sudden,  to  prove  their  Christian  affection  for 
Moritz,  on  the  nape  of  Jost  and  his  companions. 
They  also  called  the  landlord  a  cowardly  pol- 
troon, who  was  obliged  to  submit  to  have  his 
ears  boxed  by  his  wife.  I  must  mention,  in  con- 
clusion, that  old  Stilling  and  his  sons,  by  their 
grave  and  retired  deportment,  had  become  so 
much  esteemed,  that  no  one  had  the  heart  even 
to  joke  in  their  presence  ;  to  which  must  be  add- 
ed, what  I  have  already  touched  upon  above, 
that  Johann  Stilling  was  a  great  favorite  with 
the  sauire.    But  now  to  my  tale  again. 


STILLING. 

Old  Moritz  grew  better  in  a  few  days,  and  this 
vexatious  circumstance  was  the  sooner  forgot- 
ten because  they  were  occupied  with  much 
pleasanter  things;  namely,  preparations  for  the 
wedding,  which  old  Stilling  and  his  Margaret 
insisted,  once  for  all,  upon  keeping  in  their  own 
house.  They  fattened  a  couple  of  hens  for  broth, 
and  a  fat  sucking-calf  was  destined  to  be  roasted 
in  large  earthen  dishes ;  baked  plums  in  abun- 
dance, and  rice  for  the  soup,  together  with  rai- 
sins and  currants,  were  provided,  even  to  super- 
fluity. Old  Stilling  has  been  heard  to  say  that 
this  wedding  cost  him,  in  victuals  alone,  about 
ten  rix-dollars.  Be  that  as  it  may,  all  was  con- 
sumed. Wilhelm  had  suspended  his  school  for 
the  time :  for  at  such  seasons  people  are  not  dis- 
posed for  their  ordinary  employments.  He  also 
needed  the  time  to  make  new  clothes  for  his  fu- 
ture bride  and  his  sisters  against  the  wedding, 
as  well  as  for  various  other  purposes.  Stilling's 
daughters  required  it  also.  They  frequently  tri- 
ed on  their  new  jackets  and  clothes  of  fine  black 
cloth,  and  the  time  seemed  years  to  them,  till 
they  could  have  them  on  for  a  whole  day. 

At  length  the  long-wished-for  Thursday  dawn- 
ed. That  morning,  all  were  awake  in  Stilling's 
house  before  the  sun,  except  the  old  man,  who, 
having  returned  late  from  the  woods  the  evening 
before,  slept  quietly  till  it  was  time  to  accom- 
pany the  wedding-people  to  the  church.  They 
then  went  in  due  order  to  Florenburgh,  where 
the  bride,  with  her  train,  had  already  arrived. 
The  marriage  ceremony  was  performed  without 
any  gainsaying ;  after  which  they  all  proceeded 
to  Tiefenbäch,  to  the  marriage  feast.  Two  long 
boards  had  been  laid  close  together  on  blocks  of 
wood,  in  the  room,  instead  of  a  table.  Marga- 
ret had  spread  over  them  her  finest  table-cloths, 
and  the  dinner  was  then  served  up.  The  spoons 
were  of  maple,  beautifully  smooth,  and  emboss- 
ed with  roses,  flowers,  and  foliage.  The  knives 
had  fine  yellow  wooden  handles;  the  plates, 
turned  out  of  white  beech- wood,  were  also  beau- 
tifully round  and  smooth.  The  beer  foamed  in 
white  stone  jugs,  enamelled  with  blue  flowers. 
However,  Margaret  left  every  one  at  liberty  to 
drink  her  pleasant  perry,  instead  of  beer,  if  they 
preferred  it. 

After  they  had  all  eaten  and  drunk  sufficient- 
ly, rational  conversation  commenced.  But  Wil- 
helm and  his  bride  preferred  being  and  talking 
alone  ;  they  therefore  went  deep  into  the  woods  ; 
their  affection  seemed  to  increase  the  further 
they  withdrew  from  mankind.  Ah!  if  there 
had  been  no  necessities  of  life — no  cold,  no  frost, 
nor  wet,  what  would  have  been  wanting  in  the 
earthly  felicity  of  this  newly-married  coupled 
The  two  old  fathers,  meanwhile,  who  had  sat 
down  alone,  with  a  mug  of  beer  before  them, 
fell  into  serious  conversation.  Stilling  spoke  as 
follows : 

"  My  dear  sir,  it  has  always  seemed  to  me 
that  you  would  have  done  better  if  you  had  not 
applied  yourself  to  alchymy." 

Moritz.—"  Why,  my  friend  V 

Stilling. — "  If  you  had  prosecuted  the  watch- 
making business  without  interruption,  you  would 
have  been  able  richly  to  earn  your  bread ;  but 
now  your  labour  has  availed  you  nothing,  and 
what  you  had  has  been  also  expended  upon  it." 

Moritz.—'1  You  are  both  in  the  right  and  in 
the  wrong.  If  I  had  known  that  from  thirty  to 
forty  years  would  have  elapsed  before  I  found 
the  philosopher's  stone,  I  should  certainly  have 
considered  before  beginning  it.    But  now,  as  I 


STILLING'S  CHILDHOOD. 


7 


have  learned  something  by  long  experience,  and 
have  penetrated  deep  into  the  knowledge  of  na- 
ture, it  would  pain  me  to  have  plagued  myself 
so  long  in  vain." 

Stilling. — "  You  have  certainly  plagued  your- 
self in  vain  hitherto,  for  you  have  all  the  time 
been  scarcely  able  to  subsist;  and  though  you 
were  to  become  as  rich  as  you  wish,  yet  you 
could  not  change  so  many  years  of  misery  into 
happiness ;  besides  which,  I  do  not  believe  you 
will  ever  find  it.  To  say  the  truth,  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  the  philoso- 
pher's stone." 

Moritz. — "But  I  can  prove  to  you  that  there 
is.  A  certain  Doctor  Helvetius,  at  the  Hague, 
has  written  a  little  book,  called  '  The  Golden 
Calf,'  in  which  it  is  clearly  demonstrated ;  so 
that  no  one,  even  the  most  incredulous,  on  read- 
ing it,  can  doubt  of  it  any  longer.  But  whether 
I  shall  obtain  it  or  not  is  another  question.  But 
why  not  I  as  well  as  another,  since  it  is  a  free 
gift  of  God  V 

Stilling. — "  If  God  had  intended  to  give  you 
the  philosopher's  stone,  you  would  have  had  it 
long  ago  !  Why  should  he  keep  it  from  you  so 
long  7  Besides,  it  is  not  necessary  that  you  should 
have  it;  how  many  people  live  without  the  phi- 
losopher's stone !" 

Moritz. — "  That  is  true ;  but  we  ought  to  make 
ourselves  as  happy  as  we  can." 

Stilling. — "  Thirty  years  of  misery  is  certain- 
ly no  happiness  :  but  do  not  take  it  amiss,"  sha- 
king him  by  the  hand.  "As  long  as  I  have  lived, 
I  have  never  wanted ;  I  have  been  healthy,  and 
am  now  grown  old ;  I  have  brought  up  my  chil- 
dren, had  them  taught,  and  clothed  them  decent- 
ly. I  am  quite  content,  and  therefore  happy ! 
It  would  be  of  no  use  to  give  me  the  philosopher's 
stone.  But  hear  me,  my  friend  :  you  sing  very 
•well,  and  write  beautifully;  be  schoolmaster 
here  in  this  village.  Frederica  can  be  boarded 
elsewhere ;  I  have  a  clothes  room  to  spare,  in 
-which  I  could  place  a  bed ;  you  could  then  live 
with  me,  and  so  be  always  with  your  children." 

Moritz. — "  Your  offer,  my  good  friend,  is  very 
kind ;  and  I  will  accept  it,  after  I  have  made  one 
trial  more." 

Stilling. — "  Make  no  more  attempts,  my 
friend;  they  will  certainly  be  fruitless.  But  let 
us  talk  of  something  else.  I  am  very  fond  of 
astronomy; — do  you  know  Sirius  in  the  Great 
Dog?' 

Moritz. — "  I  am  no  great  astronomer,  yet  still 
1  know  it." 

Stilling.— " The  direction,  in  the  evening,  is 
generally  towards  the  south.  It  is  of  a  greenish- 
red  colour.  How  far  may  it  be  from  the  earth  1 
They  say  it  is  even  much  higher  than  the  sun." 

Moritz. — "  O  certainly,  a  thousand  times  high- 
er." 

Stilling. — "  Is  it  possible !  I  am  so  fond  of  the 
stars.  I  always  think  I  am  near  them,  when  I 
look  at  them.  But  do  you  know  also  the  Wain 
and  the  Plough  V 

Moritz. — "Yes;  they  have  been  pointed  out 
to  me." 

Stilling. — "  Oh,  how  wonderful  God  is  !" 

Margaret  Stilling,  hearing  this  conversation, 
came  and  sat  down  by  her  husband.  "  O  Ebert !" 
said  she,  "  I  can  easily  see  in  a  flower  that  God 
is  wonderful.  Let  us  learn  to  understand  them ; 
we  live  among  grass  and  flowers;  let  us  admire 
them  here  ;  when  we  are  in  heaven,  we  will  con- 
sider the  stars  " 

"That  is  right,"  said  Moritz;  "there  are  so 


many  wonders  in  nature;  if  we  duly  consider 
them,  we  may  certainly  learn  the  wisdom  of  God. 
Every  one,  however,  has  something  to  which  he 
is  particularly  inclined." 

Thus  the  marriage-guests  spent  the  day.  Wil- 
helm and  his  bride  returned  home,  and  commen- 
ced their  marriage  state,  of  which  I  will  say  more 
in  the  following  chapter. 

But  Stilling's  daughter  sat  in  the  twilight,  un- 
der the  cherry-tree,  and  sang  the  following  pa- 
thetic ballad : — 

"  There  rode  a  knight  once  over  the  plain, 
No  friend  had  he,  no  wealth,  nor  domain  ; 
His  sister  was  fair  and  beautiful :  — 
'  O  sister  dear  !  I  bid  thee  adieu  ! 
We  never  more  each  other  shall  view ; 
I'm  travelling  away  to  a  distant  land, 
So  reach  me  once  more  thy  snow-white  hand, 

Adieu  !    Adieu !    Adieu  !' 
"  '  My  dearest  brother,  I  once  did  see — 
As  it  hopp'd  about  in  the  juniper  tree — 
A  beautiful  bird  of  plumage  gay  : 
I  threw  my  ring  at  it  in  a  freak, 
It  caught  it  up  in  its  little  beak, 
And  flew  into  the  forest  far  away. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  !' 
"  '  The  castle  thou  must  securely  close, 
And  live  in  solitude  and  repose, 
Let  no  one  enter  thy  chamber  fair. 
The  knight  that  rides  the  jet-black  steed 
His  tender  suit  will  •warmly  plead, 
But  O  !  of  him  I  pray  thee  beware  ; 
To  many  a  maid  he  has  been  a  snare. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu !' 
"  The  maiden  wept  most  piteously  ; 
The  brother  saluted  her  tenderly, 
And  looked  behind  him  once  more. 
She  then  went  up  to  her  chamber  to  rest, 
But  peace  and  joy  had  fled  from  her  breast, 
For  she,  of  all  the  suitor-herd, 
The  knight  of  the  black  steed  most  preferr'd. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  ! 
u  The  knight  that  rode  the  steed  so  black 
Of  lands  and  money  had  no  lack  ; 
He  hasten'd  to  visit  the  tender  maid. 
He  frequently  came  at  the  dead  of  night, 
And  went  when  dawn'd  the  morning  light. 
He  led  her  at  length  to  his  castle  fair, 
To  other  young  damsels  that  were  there. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu ! 
"  In  the  gloom  of  night  she  accompanied  him  there, 
And  saw  how  many  a  damsel  fair 
He  had  caused  to  fall  so  grievously. 
She  took  a  cup  of  costly  wine, 
And  pour'd  a  poison  vile  therein, 
And  drank  to  the  health  of  the  swarthy  knight  ;— 
Their  eyes  both  closed  in  death  that  night. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  ! 
"  They  buried  the  knight  in  the  castle-ring ; 
The  maiden  near  to  a  little  spring. 
There  in  the  cold  ground  she  sleeps. 
At  the  midnight  hour,  she  wanders  about. 
In  the  moonshine,  and  then  she  sighs  aloud  ; 
She  walks  in  a  robe  as  white  as  snow, 
And  mourns  to  the  forest  of  all  her  woe. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  ! 
"  The  noble  brother  hasten'd  near 
The  edge  of  the  spring,  so  pure  and  clear, 
And  saw  that  it  was  his  sister  fair. 
'  What  doest  thou  here,  my  sister  dear, 
That  thus  thou  dost  sigh  and  so  doleful  appear!' 
'  I  murder'd  myself  and  the  swarthy  knight, 
By  poison  in  the  dead  of  the  night ; 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  !' 
"  As  vapour  in  the  boundless  space, 
So  fled  the  maid,  without  leaving  a  trace — 
She  never  more  was  seen. 
The  brother  retired  to  a  convent  with  speed, 
That  there  a  holy  life  he  might  lead  ; 
And  'lone  in  his  cell,  pour'd  forth  his  prayer 
For  the  health  of  the  soul  of  his  sister  dear. 

Adieu  !    Adieu  !    Adieu  !'' 

CHAPTER  II. 
Eberhard  Stilling  and  Margaret  his  wife 
now  experienced  a  novel  epoch  in  their  domes- 


8  HEINRICH 

tic  arrangements,  for  a  newly-married  couple 
existed  in  their  family.  The  question  therefore 
was — "  Where  shall  these  two  sit,  when  we 
dine  V  But  in  order  to  avoid  obscurity  in  the 
narrative,  I  must  mention  the  rank  and  order 
which  father  Stilling  observed  at  his  table.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  room,  there  was  a  bench 
made  of  an  oaken  board,  nailed  along  the  wall, 
which  extended  behind  the  stove;  before  this 
bench  and  opposite  the  stove,  stood  the  table, 
fastened  to  the  wall  as  a  flap,  that  it  might  be 
fixed  up  against  it:  it  was  made  out  of  an  oaken 
plank,  at  which  father  Stilling  himself  had  faith- 
fully and  manfully  laboured.  At  the  front  of 
this  table  sat  Eberhard  Stilling,  up  by  the  wall, 
to  which  it  was  fastened  by  the  board.  He  had 
perhaps  chosen  this  advantageous  place  in  order 
that  he  might  support  his  left  elbow,  and  at  the 
same  time  eat,  without  difficulty,  with  his  right. 
However,  of  this  there  is  no  certainty,  since  he 
never  expressed  himself  clearly  upon  it  in  his 
whole  life.  At  his  right  hand,  in  front  of  the 
table,  sat  his  four  daughters,  that  they  might  the 
more  easily  pass  to  and  fro.  Margaret  had  her 
place  between  the  table  and  the  stove,  partly  be- 
cause she  was  easily  chilled,  and  partly  that  she 
might  duly  overlook  the  table,  to  see  if  there  was 
any  thing  wanting.  Johann  and  Wilhelm  used 
to  sit  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table;  but  be- 
cause the  one  was  married,  and  the  other  kept 
school,  these  places  were  vacant;  they  were, 
therefore,  after  due  consideration,  destined  for 
the  young  married  couple. 

Johann  Stilling  occasionally  came  to  visit  his 
parents;  and  the  whole  house  rejoiced  when  he 
came,  for  he  was  a  singular  man.  Every  peas- 
ant in  the  village  had  respect  for  him.  Even 
when  he  was  very  young,  he  had  transformed  a 
wooden  plate  into  an  astrolabe,  and  a  handsome 
butter-box  of  fine  beech- wood  into  a  compass, 
and  had  likewise  made  geometrical  observations 
from  a  neighbouring  hill ;  for  at  that  time  the 
reigning  prince  caused  a  survey  to  be  made,  and 
Johann  had  looked  on  when  the  surveyor  was  at 
work.  But  he  was  now  really  become  an  able 
land-measurer,  and  was  employed  by  the  noble 
and  ignoble  in  the  division  of  their  estates.  Great 
artists  generally  possess  the  virtue  which  always 
prompts  their  inventive  spirit  to  seek  something 
new,  hence,  that  which  they  have  already  dis- 
covered, and  are  acquainted  with,  is  much  too 
tedious  to  refine  upon  still  further.  Johann  Still- 
ing was  therefore  poor;  for  what  he  was  com- 
petent to  he  neglected,  in  order  to  learn  that  of 
which  he  was  still  incapable.  His  good  but 
simple  wife  often  wished  that  he  would  apply  his 
knowledge  of  the  arts  to  the  improvement  of 
fields  and  meadows,  in  order  that  they  might 
have  more  bread.  But  we  will  forgive  the  good 
woman  for  her  simplicity ;  she  did  not  understand 
it  better — Johann  was  wise  enough  in  this  re- 
spect at  least;  he  was  either  silent,  or  smiled. 

Perpetual  motion  and  the  quadrature  of  the 
circle  occupied  him  at  that  time ;  whenever  he 
had  penetrated  deeper  into  a  mystery  of  this  kind, 
he  hastened  to  Tiefenbach  to  relate  his  discov- 
ery to  his  parents  and  sisters.  As  he  ascended 
the  village,  if  any  of  Stilling's  household  per- 
ceived him,  they  immediately  ran  home,  and 
called  all  together,  in  order  to  receive  him  at  the 
door.  Every  one  then  laboured  with  double  dil- 
igence, in  order  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  after 
supper:  they  then  placed  themselves  around  the 
table,  supporting  their  elbows  upon  it,  and  their 
cheeks  upon  their  hands — all  eyes  were  directed 


STILLING. 

to  Johann's  lips.  All  of  them  then  assisted  in 
finding  the  quadrature  of  the  circle;  even  old 
Stilling  himself  devoted  much  attention  to  it.  I 
should  do  violence  to  the  inventive,  or  rather  the 
natural  good  sense  of  this  man,  if  I  were  to  say 
that  he  contributed  nothing  towards  it.  He  oc- 
cupied himself  with  it  even  while  burning  his 
charcoal; — he  drew  a  string  round  his  perry- 
cask,  cut  it  with  his  bread-knife,  then  sawed  a 
piece  of  board  exactly  four-square,  and  scraped 
it  until  the  string  just  fitted  it — now  the  four-cor- 
nered board  must  necessarily  be  exactly  the 
same  size  as  the  circumference  of  the  perry-cask.. 
Eberhard  skipped  about  upon  one  foot,  laughed 
at  the  great  wise-heads  who  made  so  much  work 
of  such  a  simple  thing,  and  related  the  discovery 
to  his  son  Johann  the  next  opportunity.  We 
must  confess  the  truth ;— father  Stilling  had  cer- 
tainly nothing  satirical  in  his  character,  yet  still 
a  little  satire  was  intermingled  here.  But  the- 
land-measurer  soon  put  an  end  to  his  joy  by  say- 
ing, "The  question,  father,  is  not  whether  a 
joiner  can  make  a  four-cornered  box,  that  con- 
tains just  as  much  oats  as  a  round  cylindrical 
cask ;  but  it  must  be  demonstrated  what  propor- 
tion the  diameter  of  the  circle  bears  to  its  pe- 
riphery, and  then,  how  large  each  side  of  the 
square  must  be,  in  order  that  the  latter  be  as 
large  as  the  circle.  But  in  both  cases,  not  a 
thousandth  part  of  a  hair  must  be  wanting  in  the 
calculation.  It  must  be  proved  by  algebra  that 
it  is  correct  in  the  theory." 

Old  Stilling  would  have  felt  ashamed,  if  the- 
learning  of  his  son,  and  his  immoderate  joy  at 
it,  had  not  expelled  from  him  all  feeling  of  shame.. 
He  therefore  said  nothing  further,  except,  "  It  is 
not  easy  to  dispute  with  the  learned;"  laughed, 
shook  his  head,  and  continued  to  cut  chips  from 
a  log  of  beech- wood,  for  the  purpose  of  lighting 
fire  and  candle,  or  pe/haps  also  a  pipe  of  tobac- 
co; for  this  was  his  occupation  in  his  leisure 
hours. 

Stilling's  daughters  were  strong  and  laborious ; 
they  cultivated  the  earth,  which  yielded  them 
abundant  sustenance  both  in  the  garden  and  in 
the  field.  But  Doris  had  tender  hands  and  limbs ; 
she  was  soon  weary,  and  then  she  sighed  and 
wept.  The  girls  were  not  altogether  unmerci- 
ful ;  but  they  could  not  understand  why  a  female 
who  was  quite  as  tall  as  one  of  themselves  was 
not  equally  able  to  labour.  Their  sister-in-law 
was  however  often  obliged  to  rest ;  but  they  nev- 
er told  their  parents  that  she  scarcely  earned  her 
bread.  Wilhelm  soon  remarked  it ;  he  therefore- 
obtained  the  consent  of  the  whole  family,  that 
his  wife  should  assist  him  in  sewing  and  clothes- 
making.  This  arrangement  was  entered  upon, 
and  all  were  well  satisfied  with  it. 

Moritz,  the  old  clergyman,  now  also  visited 
his  daughter  for  the  first  time.  Doris  wept  for 
joy  on  seeing  him,  and  wished  to  be  housekeep- 
er herself,  in  order  that  she  might  treat  him  as 
she  desired.  He  sat  the  whole  afternoon  with 
his  children,  and  spoke  with  them  on  spiritual 
subjects.  He  seemed  to  be  quite  changed,  timid 
and  sad.  Towards  evening,  he  said,  "  Children, 
take  me  for  once  to  the  Geisenberg  castle." 
Wilhelm  laid  aside  his  heavy  iron  thimble,  and 
spat  in  his  hands;  but  Doris  put  her  thimble 
upon  her  little  finger,  and  then  they  ascended  the 
wood.  "  Children,"  said  Moritz,  "  I  feel  so  com- 
fortable under  the  shade  of  these  beech-trees. 
The  higher  we  ascend,  the  more  I  am  at  ease.. 
For  some  time  past,  I  have  seemed  like  one  that 
is  not  at  home.    This  autumn  will  certainly  be- 


9 


S  T  I  L  L  I  N  G'S 

the  last  of  my  life."  Wilhelm  and  Doris  had 
tears  in  their  eyes.  They  sat  down  upon  a  ru- 
ined wall  of  the  castle  on  the  summit  of  the  hill, 
from  whence  they  could  see  as  far  as  the  Rhine, 
and  over  the  whole  adjacent  country.  The  sun, 
in  the  distance,  no  longer  stood  high  above  the 
blue  mountains.  Moritz  looked  with  a  fixed 
eye  upon  the  scene,  and  was  silent  a  long  time, 
nor  did  his  companions  say  a  word.  "  Children," 
said  he,  at  length,  "  I  leave  you  nothing  when  I 
die:  you  can  well  spare  me.  No  one  will  la- 
ment me.  I  have  spent  a  tedious  and  useless 
life,  and  have  made  no  one  happy."  "  My  dear 
father,"  answered  Wilhelm,  "you  have  made 
me  happy.  I  and  Doris  will  lament  you  tender- 
ly." "Children,"  rejoined  Moritz,  "our  incli- 
nations easily  lead  us  to  destruction.  Of  how 
much  use  might  I  have  been  in  the  world,  if  I 
had  not  been  an  alchymist !  I  snould  have  made 
you  and  myself  happy.  (He  wepr  aloud.)  Yet 
I  always  feel  that  I  have  acknowledged  my 
faults,  and  I  will  still  amend  myself.  God  is  a 
father,  even  to  erring  children.  Listen  to  one 
more  admonition  from  me,  andfollow  it.  What- 
soever you  do,  consider  well  beforehand,  wheth- 
er it  will  be  serviceable  to  ahers  also.  If  you 
find  that  it  is  only  advantageous  to  yourselves, 
reflect  that  it  is  a  work  without  reward.  God 
only  rewards  us  when  we  serve  our  neighbour. 
I  have  wandered  through  the  world  poor  and  un- 
observed, and  when  I  am  dead  I  shall  soon  be 
forgotten  ;  but  I  shall  find  mercy  before  the  throne 
of  Christ,  and  obtain  salvafon."  They  now 
went  home  again,  and  Moriiz  continued  sad. 
He  went  about  comforting  theooor,  and  praying 
with  them.  He  also  worked,  aid  made  watch- 
es, by  which  he  earned  his  bread,  and  had  be- 
sides something  over.  Yet  fiis  did  not  last 
long;  for  the  next  winter  he  was  lost;— after 
three  days,  they  found  him  frozen  to  death  under 
the  snow.  t 

After  this  melancholy  event,  a  novelty  of  an 
important  kind  was  discovered  in  Stilling's 
house.  Doris  was  pregnant ;  and  every  one  re- 
joiced in  the  prospect  of  a  child,  of  which  there 
had  been  none  in  the  house  for  many  years.  It 
is  indescribable  what'abour  and  diligence  were 
employed  in  preparing  for  the  accouchement  of 
Doris.  Even  old  Stillog  himself  rejoiced  at 
the  idea  of  a  grandson,  h  the  hope  of  once  more 
singing  his  old  cradle  soigs  before  his  end,  and 
of  shewing  his  knowledges  the  art  of  education. 

The  day  of  her  confinenent  approached;  and 
on  the  12th  of  September,  i/40,  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  Heinrich  Stilling  was  born. 
The  boy  was  lively,  healthy  and  well ;  and  his 
mother  was  also  soon  better  "a^ain,  notwithstand- 
ing the  predictions  of  the  Tiehnbach  sibyls. 

The  child  was  baptized  at  Floenburgh  church. 
But  father  Stilling,  in  order  t>  make  the  day 
more  solemn,  prepared  a  feas^  at  which  he 
wished  to  see  present  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein. 
He  therefore  sent  his  son  Johann  to  the  parson- 
age, to  invite  the  gentleman  to  acompany  him 
back  to  Tiefenbach,  to  partake  o'  the  dinner. 
Johann  went;  he  took  off  his  haton  entering 
the  court-yard,  in  order  to  make  to  mistake ; 
but  alas !  how  often  is  all  human  preaution  un- 
availing !  A  great  dog  sprang  forh  ;  Johann 
Stilling  seized  a  stone,  threw  it,  and  lit  the  dog 
in  the  side,  so  that  he  began  to  howl  aeadfully. 
The  clergyman  saw  what  passed,  though  the 
window;  he  rushed  out  full  of  wrath,  s^ook  his 
fist  in  poor  Johann's  face,  and  screaned  out, 
"  Thou  ragamuffin !  '11  teach  thee  how  to  be- 
B 


CHILDHOOD.  9 

have  to  my  dog!"  Stilling  answered,  "1  knew 
not  that  it  was  your  reverence's  dog.  My  broth- 
er and  my  parents  have  sent  to  invite  your  rev- 
erence to  go  with  me  to  Tiefenbach,  to  partake 
of  the  christening-dinner."  The  clergyman  was 
silent,  and  went  away;  but  growled  back  from 
the  house-door,  "Wait;  I  will  go  with  thee." 
He  waited  almost  an  hour  in  the  yard,  caress- 
ing the  dog,  and  the  poor  beast  was  really  more 
placable  than  the  learned  divine,  who  now  came 
out  of  the  house.  The  man  walked  along,  hold- 
ing firmly  by  his  cane.  Johann  walked  timidly 
behind  him,  with  his  hat  under  his  arm  ;  putting 
it  on  was  a  dangerous  affair,  since  in  his  youth 
he  had  received  many  a  box  on  the  ear  from  the 
clergyman,  for  not  taking  it  off  soon  enough — 
that  is,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  him  at  a  dis- 
tance. But  still  it  was  terrible  to  walk  for  an 
hour  together  bare-headed,  in  the  open  air,  in 
September:  he  therefore  thought  of  some  con- 
trivance by  which  he  might  with  propriety  cover 
himself.  All  of  a  sudden  Mr.  Stollbein  fell  to 
the  ground,  and  made  a  great  splash.  Johann 
was  alarmed.  "  Oh  !"  cried  he,  "  has  your  rev- 
erence received  any  harm  V  "What's  that  to- 
you,  you  lubber  1"  was  the  man's  heroic  reply, 
while  gathering  himself  up.  Johann's  fire  now 
took  flame  in  some  measure,  so  that  it  burst 
forth:  "I  am  heartily  glad,  then,  that  you  have 
fallen,"  and  smiled  beside.  "What!  what!" 
cried  the  parson.  But  Johann  put  on  his  hat, 
let  the  lion  roar  without  being  afraid,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  his  way,  as  did  his  reverence  also; 
and  thus  at  length"  they  arrived  at  Tiefenbach. 

Old  Stilling  stood  before  his  door,  barehead- 
ed ;  his  beautiful  grey  hair  played  in  the  breeze ; 
he  smiled  at  the  clergyman,  and  said,  while 
giving  him  his  hand,  "  I  am  glad  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  your  reverence,  in  my  old 
age,  at  my  table;  but  I  should  not  have  been  so 
bold  if  my  joy  had  not  been  so  great  in  having 
a  grandson."  The  clergyman  wished  him  hap- 
piness, but  with  a  well-meant  threat  attached, 
that  he  must  be  more  diligent  in  bringing  up 
his  children,  lest  the  curse  of  Eli  should  fall 
upon  him.  The  old  man  stood  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  ability,  and  smiled;  however  he  said 
nothing,  but  conducted  his  reverence  into  the 
room.  "I  will  hope,"  said  the  reverend  gen- 
tleman, "  that  I  am  not  to  eat  here  among  a 
swarm  of  peasants !"  "  No  one  dines  here,"  re- 
plied father  Stilling,  "except  myself,  my  wife, 
and  children;  do  you  call  them  a  swarm  of 
peasants'?"  "Ay  —  what  else  1"  replied  the 
other.  "  I  must  remind  you,  then,  sir,  that  you 
are  any  thing  but  a  servant  of  Christ,  and  that 
you  are  a  pharisee.  He  sat  with  publicans  and 
sinners,  and  ate  with  them.  He  was,  on  all  oc- 
casions, meek,  and  lowly,  and  humble.  Your 
reverence!  my  grey  hairs  stand  on  end;  sit 
down  or  withdraw.  Something  beats  here,  or 
else  I  might  do  violence  to  your  cloth,  for  which 
I  have  otherwise  respect.  Here,  sir,  here  be- 
fore my  house,  rode  the  prince;  I  was  standing 
at  my  door ;  he  knew  me,  and  said,  1  Good  morn- 
ir.g,  Stilling!'  I  answered,  '  Good  morning,  your 
Highness!'  He  dismounted  from  his  horse,  for 
he  was  wearied  with  hunting.  '  Fetch  me  a 
crair,'  said  he;  'I  will  rest  here  a  little.'  'I 
h£ve  an  airy  room,'  replied  I;  'will  it  please 
your  Highness  to  walk  into  the  room,  and  sit 
"there  at  your  ease  V  '  Yes,'  said  he.  The  ran-- 
ge-  of  the  forests  entered  with  him.  There  he 
sat,  where  I  have  placed  you  my  best  chair. 
Mj  Margaret  provided  him  with  new  milk  and 


10  HEINRICH 

bread-and-butter.  He  obliged  us  both  to  eat 
with  him,  and  assured  us  that  he  had  never 
relished  a  meal  so  much.  Where  cleanliness 
reigns  there  any  one  may  eat.  Now  decide, 
reverend  sir !  we  are  all  hungry."  The  clergy- 
man sat  down,  and  Stilling  called  his  family ; 
but  none  of  them  would  come  in,  not  even  Mar- 
garet herself.  She  filled  an  earthen  bowl  with 
chicken-broth  for  the  preacher,  gave  him  a  large 
plate  of  meat  and  a  jug  of  beer.  Stilling  him- 
self set  it  before  him;  the  reverend  gentleman 
ate  and  drank  in  haste,  said  nothing,  but  return- 
ed again  to  Florenburgh.  They  then  all  sat 
down  to  table.  Margaret  said  grace,  and  they 
ate  with  great  appetite.  Even  the  lying-in  wom- 
an sat  in  Margaret's  place,  with  her  boy  at  her 
breast;  for  Margaret  would  wait  upon  her  chil- 
dren herself.  She  had  put  on  a  very  fine  white 
chemise,  which  she  had  worn  in  her  bridal-days, 
the  sleeves  of  which  she  had  rolled  up  above 
the  elbows.  She  had  a  stomacher  and  dress  of 
fine  black  cloth ;  and  her  grey  locks,  well  pow- 
dered with  honour  and  age,  projected  from  be- 
neath her  cap.  It  is  really  incomprehensible  that 
during  the  whole  meal  not  a  word  was  said  of  the 
clergyman;  but  I  am  of  opinion  the  reason  was, 
because  father  Stilling  did  not  begin  about  it. 

Whilst  they  were  sitting  thus  pleasantly  at 
dinner,  a  poor  woman  knocked  at  the  door.  She 
had  an  infant  hanging  at  her  back,  wrapped  in 
a  cloth,  and  begged  for  a  piece  of  bread.  Maria 
hastened  to  give  it  her.  The  woman  came  in 
tattered  and  dirty  clothes,  which  seemed,  how- 
ever, from  the  cut  of  them,  to  have  formerly  be- 
longed to  some  gentlewoman.  Father  Stilling 
commanded  that  she  should  sit  at  the  room-door, 
and  that  something  of  all  should  be  given  her. 
"  Thou  mayest  offer  the  child  some  rice-pap," 
said  he  further  to  Maria.  She  ate,  and  relished 
it  exceedingly  ;  and  after  she  and  her  child  were 
satisfied,  she  thanked  them  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  and  was  about  to  depart.  "  No,"  said  old 
Stilling;  "sit  and  tell  us  from  whence  you  are, 
and  why  you  are  thus  obliged  to  travel.  I  will 
give  you  a  little  beer  to  drink."  She  sat  down, 
and  began  as  follows : 

M  Ah,  dear  me !"  said  she,  "how  lamentable  it 
is  that  I  must  thus  wander  about!  (Stilling's 
daughter  Maria  had  taken  her  seat  not  far  from 
her ;  she  listened  with  the  greatest  attention,  and 
her  eyes  were  already  moistened  with  tears.) 
Alas !  I  am  a  poor  woman  !  Ten  years  ago, 
you  folks  would  have  thought  it  an  honour  if  I 
had  dined  with  you." 

Wilhelm  Stilling. — "Surprising!" 

Johann  Stilling. — "  Unless  you  had  been  of  a 
Stollbein  disposition." 

Father  Stilling. — "Be  still,  children! — let  the 
woman  speak." 

Woman. — "  My  father  is  the  clergyman  of 

Maria. — "  What  is  thai  1  Your  father  a  cler- 
gyman !"  (drawing  nearer  her.) 

Woman. — "  O  yes,  certainly ! — he  is  a  clergy- 
man ;  a  very  rich  and  learned  man." 

Father  Stilling. — "  Of  what  place  is  he  the 
clergyman  ?" 

Woman. — "  Of  Goldingen,  in  the  province  of 
Barching.    Yes,  indeed  ;  alas,  yes." 

Johann  Stilling. — "  I  must  search  for  ttat 
■place  upon  the  map;  it  cannot  be  far  from  ihe 
Mühler  lake,  at  the  upper  end,  towards  the  S?p- 
tentrion." 

Woman. — "Ah,  young  gentleman!  I  know  of 
no  place  near  there  called  Schlendrian." 


STILLING. 

Maria. — "  Our  Johann  did  not  say  Schlendrian. 
What  didst  thou  say?' 

Father  Stilling.— " Go  on.    Hush,  children!" 

Woman. — "I  was  then  a  bonny  lassie,  and 
had  many  a  fine  opportunity  to  marry  (Maria 
looked  at  her  from  head  to  foot),  but  none  of 
them  suited  my  father.  The  one  was  not  rich 
enough— the  other  was  not  respectable  enough — 
the  third  did  not  go  to  church  often  enough." 

Maria. — "I  say,  Johann,  what  are  the  people 
called  who  do  not  go  to  church  V 

Johann  Stilling. — "  Hush,  girl ! — separatists." 

Woman. — "  Well !  what  happened  1  I  clearly 
saw  that  I  should  have  none,  if  I  did  not  help 
myself.  There  was  a  young  journeyman  bar- 
ber—" 

Maria.— •"  What's  that — a  journeyman  bar- 
ber?" 

Wilhelm  Stilling. — "Sister,  ask  every  thing 
afterwards ;  only  let  the  woman  speak  now. 
They  are  lads  that  shave  off  people's  beards." 

Woman. — "I  beg  you  will,  as  one  may  say. 
My  husband  could  perform  cures  in  spite  of  the 
best  doctor.  O  yes!  he  did  many,  many  cures  ! 
In  short,  I  ran  off  with  him.  We  fixed  our  res- 
idence at  Spelterburgh,  which  lies  on  the  river 
Spa." 

Johann  Stilling.-^"  Yes,  it  lies  there,  a  few 
miles  up,  where  the  Milder  flows  into  it." 

Woman.— 11  Yes,  that's  the  place.  Unfortu- 
nate woman  that  I  am  !  I  there  ascertained  that 
my  husband  associated  with  certain  people." 

'Maria. — "  Were  you  married  at  the  time?" 

Woman.— "  No,  truly!  who  would  marry  us? 
O  certainly  not !  (Maria  drew  her  chair  a  little 
further  from  the  woman.)  I  would  absolutely 
not  permit  my  husband  to  associate  with  rogues ; 
for  although  my  father  was  only  a  cobbler — " 

On  saying  this,  the  woman  packed  up  her 
child  upon  her  back,  and  ran  off  as  fast  as  she 
was  able.  . 

Father  Stilling-,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
could  not  comprehend  why  the  woman  broke 
off  in  the  midst  of  her  tale,  and  ran  away.  And 
really  it  required  some  knowledge  of  logic  to 
perceive  the  reason  of  it.  Every  one  gave  his 
sentiments  upon  the  subject,  but  all  the  reasons 
assigned  were  dubious.  The  most  rational  opin- 
ion, and  at  the  same  time  the  most  probable, 
was,  that  the  woman  hid  become  rather  indis- 
posed, from  having  e»en  too  much  of  things 
she  was  unaccustomed  to ;  and  with  this  they 
satisfied  themselves.  /  But  father  Stilling,  ac- 
cording to  his  custöh,  drew  the  following  in- 
struction from  the  tie— that  it  was  best  to  im- 
press religion  and  /he  love  of  virtue  upon  his 
children ;  and  then/at  a  proper  age,  leave  them 
free  to  choose  wit)  respect  to  marriage,  if  they 
only  made  such  i  choice  as  not  to  bring  a  real 
disgrace  upon  0e  family  by  it.  Parents  cer- 
tainly must  admonish  their  children  ;  but  com- 
pulsion no  longer  avails,  when  the  individual 
has  attained  t>  the  age  of  maturity ;  he  then 
thinks  he  und/rstands  every  thing  as  well  as  his 
parents.  J 

During  th£  wise  speech,  to  which  all  present 
were  extremely  attentive,  Wilhelm  sat  in  deep 
meditation./  He  supported  his  cheek  with  one 
hand,  andiooked  fixedly  straight  before  him. 
"  Hum !"  /aid  he  ;  "  every  thing  that  the  woman 
has  relate/  seems  to  me  suspicious.  She  said, 
at  the  beginning,  that  her  father  was  a  clergy- 
man at  f — " 

Marty  —  "At  Goldingen,  in  the  province  of 
Barchilg." 


S  T I  L  L I  N  G'S 

Wilhelm. — "  Yes,  it  was  there.  And  yet  she 
said  at  the  end,  that  her  father  was  a  cobbler." 
All  present  struck  their  hands  together  with  as- 
tonishment. It  was  now  evident  why  the  wom- 
an had  run  away;  and  it  was  prudently  resolved 
to  have  cramps  and  bolts  to  every  door  and 
opening  in  the  house.  No  one  will  take  this 
amiss  of  the  Stilling  family,  who  has  in  a 
measure  learned  to  see  the  connection  of  the 
thing. 

Doris  said  nothing  during  the  whole  time  ; 
for  what  reason  I  cannot  exactly  say.  She 
suckled  her  boy  Heinrich  every  moment;  for 
this  was  now  all  to  her,  and  the  boy  was  also 
fat  and  strong.  The  most  experienced  gossips, 
immediately  after  the  birth  of  the  child,  could 
discover  in  its  features  a  perfect  resemblance  to 
its  father;  and  in  particular  they  thought  they 
had  found  traces,  upon  the  upper  eyelid  of  the 
left  eye,  of  a  future  wart,  which  his  father  had 
there.  However,  a  secret  partiality  must  have 
induced  all  the  neighbours  to  give  this  false  tes- 
timony, for  the  boy  possessed  the  mother's  fea- 
tures, and  her  tender,  feeling  heart,  entirely. 

Doris  fell,  by  degrees,  into  a  gentle  melan- 
choly. She  had  nothing  in  the  world  that  any 
longer  gave  her  pleasure  ;  but  still,  nothing 
caused  her  vexation.  She  continually  enjoyed 
a  delightful  sadness,  and  her  tender  heart  seem- 
ed to  dissolve  itself  wholly  into  tears,  without 
grief  or  sorrow.  If  the  sun  arose  beautifully, 
she  wept,  contemplated  it  pensively,  and  said, 
occasionally,  "  How  beautiful  must  He  be  that 
made  it !"  If  he  set,  she  wept  again :  "  There 
goes  our  soothing  friend  from  us  again,"  said 
she  often,  and  longed  to  be  far  away  in  the 
woods,  during  the  twilight.  But  nothing  affect- 
ed her  so  much  as  the  moon ;  she  then  felt 
something  unutterable,  and  often  walked  about 
whole  evenings  at  the  foot  of  the  Geisenberg. 
Wilhelm  almost  always  accompanied  her,  and 
conversed  very  kindly  with  her.  They  had  both 
of  them  something  similar  in  their  dispositions. 
They  could  well  have  spared  the  whole  world- 
full  of  people,  but  not  the  one  the  other;  yet  still 
they  sympathised  with  all  the  misery  and  dis- 
tress of  their  fellow-creatures. 

Heinrich  Stilling  was  almost  a  year  and  a 
half  old,  when  Doris,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  re- 
quested her  husband  to  walk  with  her  to  the 
Geisenberg  castle.  Wilhelm  had  never  yet  re- 
fused her  any  thing.  He  went  with  her.  As 
soon  as  they  entered  the  wood,  they  put  their 
arms  round  each  other,  and  went,  step  by  step, 
under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  up  the  hill,  accom- 
panied by  the  twittering  of  the  birds.  Doris  be- 
gan: 

"  What  dost  thou  think,  Wilhelm  1— shall  we 
know  each  other  in  heaven  1" 

Wilhelm. — "O  yes,  dear  Doris!  Christ  says 
of  the  rich  man,  that  he  knew  Lazarus  in  Abra- 
ham's bosom ;  and  beside  this,  the  rich  man  was 
in  hell ;  therefore,  I  certainly  believe  we  shall 
know  each  other  again  in  eternity." 

Doris. — "  O  Wilhelm!  how  I  rejoice  when  I 
think  that  we  shall  be  together  to  all  eternity, 
entirely  without  sorrow,  and  in  unmingled  heav- 
enly felicity  and  delight !  I  always  think  I  could 
not  be  happy  in  heaven  without  thee.  Yes,  dear 
Wilhelm!  we  shall  most  certainly  know  each 
other  there !  Now  this  is  what  I  wish  so  heart- 
ily !  It  is  God  who  made  my  soul  and  my  heart 
to  wish  in  this  manner;  and  He  would  not  have 
implanted  such  hopes  if  they  were  improper,  or 
merely  fanciful.    Yes,  I  shall  know  thee,  and 


CHILDHOOD.  11 

will  seek  thee  out  amongst  all  the  people  there, 
and  then  I  shall  be  happy." 

Wilhelm. — "  We  will  let  ourselves  be  buried 
together,  and  then  we  shall  not  have  long  to 

seek." 

Doris. — "  O  that  we  might  both  die  the  same 
moment !  But  what  would  become  of  our  dear 
boy  V 

Wilhelm. — "  He  would  remain  here,  and  be 
well  brought  up,  and  at  length  come  to  us." 

Doris. — "  Still,  I  should  be  very  anxious  about 
him,  whether  he  would  be  pious  or  not." 

Wilhelm. — "  Hear  me,  Doris ! — thou  hast  been 
a  long  time  particularly  melancholy.  To  say 
the  truth,  thou  makest  me  sad  likewise.  Why 
dost  thou  love  to  be  so  much  alone  with  me] 
My  sisters  believe  thou  art  not  fond  of  them." 

Doris.— "Yet  I  really  love  them  from  my 
heart." 

Wilhelm. — "  Thou  often  weepest,  as  if  thou 
wert  dejected,  and  this  gives  me  pain.  I  shall 
be  melancholy  also.  Hast  thou  any  thing  on 
thy  heart,  love,  that  torments  thee  ]  Tell  it  to 
me.  I  will  set  thee  at  rest,  whatever  it  may  cost 
me." 

Doris. — "  O  no !  I  am  not  dejected,  dear  Wil- 
helm !  I  am  not  dissatisfied.  I  love  thee,  and  I 
love  our  parents  and  sisters;  yea,  I  love  all  men. 
But  I  will  tell  thee  how  I  feel.  In  the  spring, 
when  I  see  how  every  thing  shoots  forth,  the 
leaves  on  the  trees,  the  flowers  and  the  plants,  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  it  did  not  concern  me  at  all ; 
I  then  feel  as  if  I  were  in  a  world  to  which  I  did 
not  belong.  But  as  soon  as  I  find  a  yellow  leaf, 
a  faded  flower,  or  a  withered  herb,  my  tears  be- 
gin to  flow,  and  I  feel  so  comfortable  I  cannot 
tell  thee;  and  yet  I  am  never  cheerful  at  such 
times.  Formerly,  all  this  made  me  sad,  and  I 
was  never  more  joyful  than  in  spring." 

•  Wilhelm. — "I  have  no  knowledge  of  things  of 
this  kind ;  however,  so  much  is  true,  that  it  makes 
me  very  susceptible." 

Whilst  conversing  in  this  manner,  they  came 
to  the  ruins  of  the  castle  on  the  side  of  the  hill, 
and  felt  the  cool  breeze  from  the  Rhine,  and  saw 
how  it  played  with  the  long  dry  blades  of  grass 
and  ivy  leaves,  which  grew  upon  the  fallen  walls, 
and  whistled  about  them.  "  This  is  just  the  place 
for  me,"  said  Doris ;  "  here  I  could  wish  to 
dwell.  Tell  me  once  more  the  history  of  Jo- 
hann Hübner,  who  lived  in  this  castle.  Let  us 
meanwhile  sit  down  on  the  rampart,  opposite 
the  walls.  I  would  not  venture  within  the  walls 
for  the  world,  whilst  thou  art  relating  it ;  for  I 
always  shudder  when  I  hear  it."  Wilhelm  re- 
lated as  follows : 

"In ancient  times  this  castle  was  inhabited  by 
robbers,  who  went  about  the  country  in  the  night, 
stole  the  people's  cattle,  and  drove  them  yonder 
into  the  court,  where  there  was  a  large  stable, 
and  afterwards  sold  them,  far  off,  to  strangers. 
The  last  robber  that  dwelt  here  was  Johann 
Hübner.  He  wore  armour,  and  was  stronger  than 
any  other  man  in  the  whole  country.  He  had 
only  one  eye,  and  a  large  curly  beard  and  hair. 
In  the  daytime  he  sat  with  his  servants,  who 
were  all  very  strong  men,  in  the  corner  yonder, 
where  thou  seest  the  broken  window-hole ;  there 
they  had  a  room;  there  they  sat  and  guzzled 
beer.  Johann  Hübner  saw,  with  his  one  eye, 
very  far  through  the  whole  country;  and  when, 
ever  he  perceived  a  horseman,  he  called  out, 
'  Halloa !  there  goes  a  horseman  on  a  very  fine 
horse — Halloa !'  Then  they  lay  in  wait  for  the 
horseman,  took  his  horse  away,  and  slew  him. 


12  HEINRICH 

But  there  was  a  prince  of  Dillenburgh,  called 
Black  Christian,  a  very  strong  man,  who  was 
always  hearing  of  Johann  Hübner's  robberies, 
for  the  peasants  came  and  complained  of  him. 
This  black  prince  had  a  prudent  servant,  called 
Hanns  Flick,  whom  he  sent  over  the  country  in 
order  to  spy  out  this  Johann  Hübner.  The 
prince  himself  lay  behind  in  the  Giller,  which 
thou  seest  yonder,  and  kept  himself  concealed 
there  with  his  horsemen  ;  and  the  peasants 
brought  him  bread,  butter,  and  cheese.  Hanns 
Flick  did  not  know  Johann  Hübner;  he  roved 
about  the  country  and  inquired  for  him.  At 
length  he  came  to  a  smithy,  where  horses  were 
shod.  There  were  many  wagon-wheels  against 
the  wall,  which  were  there  to  be  covered ;  a  man 
had  leaned  himself  with  his  back  against  them, 
who  had  only  one  eye,  and  had  on  an  iron  jerkin. 
Hanns  Flick  went  to  him,  and  said,  1  God  save 
thee,  thou  iron-jerkin  man  with  one  eye;  is  not 
thy  name  Johann  Hübner  of  Geisenberg  T  The 
man  answered,  'Johann  Hübner  of  Geisenberg 
lies  on  the  wheel.'  Hanns  Flick  understood 
him  to  mean  the  wheel  on  the  scaffold,  and  said, 
1  Is  that  lately  V  '  Yes,'  answered  the  man,  '  this 
very  day.'  Hanns  Flick  did  not  fully  believe 
him,  and  continued  at  the  smithy,  and  watched 
the  man  who  lay  upon  the  wheel.  The  man 
whispered  to  the  smith  to  shoe  his  horse  the 
wrong  way,  so  that  the  forepart  of  the^shoe  was 
placed  behind.  The  smith  did  so,  and  Johann 
Hübner  rode  away.  As  he  mounted  his  horse, 
he  said  to  Hanns  Flick,  '  God  save  thee,  brave 
fellow !  Tell  thy  master  he  ought  to  send  me 
men  that  can  fight,  and  not  eaves-droppe?s.'  Hanns 
Flick  stood  still,  and  saw  him  ride  over  the  field 
into  the  forest,  and  then  ran  after  him,  to  see 
where  he  stopped.  He  would  have  followed  his 
track,  but  Johann  Hübner  rode  up  and  down, 
across  and  athwart,  so  that  Hanns  Flick  soon  lost 
the  track  of  the  horse;  lor  where  he  had  ridden, 
the  track  was  in  a  contrary  direction ;  he  there- 
fore soon  lost  him,  and  knew  not  what  had  be- 
come of  him.  At  length,  however,  Hanns  Flick 
got  sight  of  him,  as  he  was  lying  yonder,  with 
his  men,  on  the  heath  in  the  forest,  guarding  the 
cattle  they  had  stolen.  It  was  in  the  night,  by 
moonshine.  He  ran  and  told  it  to  Prince  Chris- 
tian, who  with  his  men  rode  silently  below, 
through  the  forest.  They  bound  moss  under  the 
horses'  feet,  got  near  him,  sprang  upon  him,  and 
they  fought  together.  Prince  Christian  and  Jo- 
hann Hübner  struck  one  another  upon  the  iron 
helmets  and  cuirasses,  so  that  they  rang  again, 
till  at  length  Johann  Hübner  was  slain,  and  the 
prince  took  possession  of  the  castle.  They  bu- 
ried Johann  Hübner  down  in  the  corner  yonder, 
and  the  prince  laid  much  wood  about  the  great 
tower,  which  they  also  undermined.  It  fell  in 
the  evening,  when  the  Tielenbach  people  milked 
their  cows;  the  whole  country  about  trembled 
with  the  fall.  Thou  seest  yonder  the  long  heap 
of  stones  down  the  hill;  that  is  the  tower,  as  it 
fell.  Between  eleven  and  twelve  at  night,  Jo- 
hann Hübner,  with  his  one  eye,  still  haunts  this 
place.  He  sits  on  a  black  horse,  and  rides  about 
the  rampart.  Old  Neuser,  our  neighbour,  has 
seen  him." 

Doris  trembled  and  shuddered  whenever  a  bird 
flew  upwards  out  of  the  bush.  "  I  am  always 
fond  of  hearing  the  tale,"  said  she,  "  when  I  am 
thus  sitting  here;  and  if  I  were  to  hear  it  ten 
times,  I  should  not  be  tired  of  it.  Let  us  walk 
about  the  rampart  a  little."  They  went  together 
upon  the  rampart,  and  Doris  sang : 


STILLING. 

"  Three  stars  shone  over  a  regal  dome, 
In  which  three  maidens  abode  ; 
Their  father  was  gone  away  far  from  homey 
And  on  a  white  horse  he  rode. 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo! 

"  '  Seest  thou  not  yet  the  little  white  horse, 
Dear  sister,  down  in  the  dale  V 
?  I  see  the  white  horse,  pursuing  its  course, 
And  trotting  along  the  vale.' 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo ! 

" '  I  see  the  white  horse,  but  my  father's  not  there 
O  sisters,  our  father  is  dead  ! 
My  heart  within  me  is  pained  with  fear; 
And  glare  the  heavens  so  red  !' 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo  ! 

"  There  enter'd  a  horseman  in  bloody  array, 

Into  their  chamber  fair  ; 
'  O  horseman,  so  bloody,  we  earnestly  pray 
Thee  our  virgin  lives  to  spare  !' 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo  ! 

"  1  Ye  may  not  live,  ye  virgins  three  ! — 
My  wife,  so  blooming  and  fair, 
Your  father  did  murder  under  a  tree, — 
A  stream  of  blood  issued  there.' 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo  ! 

"  '  The  murderer  I  found  in  the  shady  wood, 
And  took  his  courser  away  ; 
And  there  did  I  spill  his  vital  blood, — 
lie  fell  from  the  rocks  that  day.' 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo! 

"  '  My  mother  so  dear,  thou  wouldst  also  have  slain,, 
As  down  in  the  vale  she  did  hie  ! 
O  sisters  rejoice,  we  shall  soon  meet  agaia, 
Right  willing  we  are  to  die.' 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo  ! 

"  The  man  then  took  a  sharp-pointed  knife, 
And  pierced  the  maidens  dead  : — 
Fast  ebb'd  away  their  precious  life, — 
They  fell  to  the  ground  like  lead. 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo  ! 

"  There  flows  a  rivulet,  pure  and  clear, 
Along  the  vale  in  haste, — 
Flow  winding  around,  thou  rivulet  dear, 
E'en  unto  the  ocean  vast ! 
Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo  ! 

"  There  rest  the  maidens,  in  sleep  profound, 
Until  the  judgment-day  ; — 
They  sleep  beneath  the  clay-cold  ground, 

Until  the  judgment-day. 
,       Star,  shine,  portentous  of  wo !" 

The  sun  now  began  to  decline ;  and  Doris  with 
her  Wilhelm  had  peculiarly  felt  the  pleasure  of 
melancholy.  As  they  went  down  the  wood  a 
mortal  tremor  pervaded  Doris's  whole  frame. 
She  trembled  from  a  chilly  feeling,  and  it  was 
difficult  for  her  to  reach  Sailing's  house.  She 
fell  into  a  violent  fever.  Wilhelm  was  with  her 
day  and  night.  After  the  lapse  of  a  fortnight, 
she  said  at  midnight  to  Wilhelm,  "Come,  lie 
down  in  bed."  He  complied,  and  lay  down  by 
her.  She  embraced  him  with  her  right  arm;  he 
lay  with  his  head  on  her  breast.  All  at  once 
he  perceived  that  the  beating  of  her  pulse 
ceased,  and  then  again  beat  a  few  times.  He 
was  petrified,  and  called  out,  in  the  distress  of 
his  soul,  "Maria!  Maria!"  All  were  roused, 
and  ran  to  him.  There  lay  Wilhelm,  and  re- 
ceived Doris's  last  breath  into  his  mouth.  She 
was  dead  already !  Wilhelm  was  stupified,  and 
his  soul  wished  never  to  come  to  itself  again  ;  at 
length,  however,  he  arose  from  bed,  wept,  and  la- 
mented aloud.  Father  Stilling  himself  and  his 
Margaret  went  to  her,  closed  her  eyes,  and 
sobbed.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  how  the  two  old 
greyheads  looked  with  tenderness  on  the  departed 
angel,  while  the  tears  flowed  down  their  cheeks. 
The  girls  also  wept  aloud,  and  recounted  to 
each  other  all  the  last  words  which  their  late  sis- 
ter-in-law had  spoken,  and  the  caresses  she  had 
given  them. 


STILLING'S  CHILDHOOD. 


13 


CHAPTER  III. 

Wilhelm  Stilling  had  lived  alone  with  his 
Doris  in  a  very  populous  district;  she  was  now 
dead  and  buried,  and  he  found  that  he  was  living 
quite  alone  in  the  world.    His  parents  and  sis- 
ters were  about  him,  without  his  perceiving 
them.    In  the  face  of  his  orphan  child  he  saw 
only  the  lineaments  of  Doris ;  and  when  he  went 
to  bed  at  night,  he  found  his  chamber  silent  and 
empty.   He  often  imagined  he  heard  the  rustling 
of  Doris's  foot  on  stepping  into  bed.    He  then 
started,  expecting  to  see  her,  but  saw  her  not. 
He  reflected  on  all  the  days  they  had  lived  to- 
gether, found  in  each  of  them  a  paradise,  and 
was  astonished  that  he  had  not  at  that  time  ex- 
ulted for  joy.    He  then  look  his  little  Heinrich 
in  his  arms,  bedewed  him  with  tears,  pressed 
him  to  his  breast,  and  slept  with  him.    He  often 
dreamed  he  was  walking  with  Doris  in  the  Gei- 
senberg  forest,  and  how  happy  he  was  to  have 
her  again.    While  dreaming,  he  was  afraid  of 
awaking,  and  yet  he  awoke;  on  which  his  tears 
began  to  flow  anew,  and  his  condition  was  com- 
fortless.   Father  Stilling  saw  all  this,  and  yet 
he  never  comforted  his  son  Wilhelm.  Marga- 
ret and  her  daughters  often  attempted  it,  but  they 
only  made  the  evil  worse;  for  every  thing  of- 
fended Wilhelm  which  had  even  a  tendency  to 
withdraw  him  from  his  sadness.    But  they  could 
not  comprehend  how  it  was  possible  that  their 
father  made  no  effort  to  render  hie  son  more 
cheerful.    They  therefore  determined  to  unite  in 
exhorting  him  to  do  so  the  next  time  Wilhelm 
went  to  roam  about  in  the  Geisenberg  forest,  to 
seek  out  and  weep  over  Doris's  traces  and  foot- 
steps.   This  he  did  frequently,  and  therefore  it 
was  not  long  before  they  found  an  opportunity 
of  accomplishing  their  purpose.    Margaret  un- 
dertook it  as  soon  as  the  cloth  was  removed,  and 
Wilhelm  had  left  them;  and  while  Father  Still- 
ing was  picking  his  teeth,  and  looking  at  some 
spot  straight  before  him,  "  Ebert,"  said  she, 
"  why  dost  thou  let  the  lad  wander  about  so  1 
Thou  payest  no  attention  to  him,  nor  speakest  a 
little  to  him,  but  behavest  as  if  he  did  not  con- 
cern thee  at  all.    The  poor  fellow  may  fall  into 
a  consumption  from  mere  sorrow."  "Marga- 
ret," answered  the  old  man,  smiling,  "what  dost 
thou  think  I  could  say  to  him,  to  comfort  him  1 
If  I  tell  him  he  must  be  content — his  Doris  is  in 
heaven,  and  that  she  is  happy,  it  amounts  to  the 
same  thing  as  if  any  one  were  to  take  away  all 
that  thou  lovest  the  most  in  the  world,  and  I  were 
then  to  come  and  say  to  thee,  'Be  satisfied,  thy 
things  are  in  good  keeping;  at  the  end  of  sixty 
years  thou  wilt  have  them  again ;  he  is  a  worthy 
man  in  whose  possession  they  are.'  Wouldst 
thou  not  be  very  vexed  at  me,  and  say,  'But 
what  shall  I  live  upon  during  the  sixty  years'?' 
If  I  number  up  all  Doris's  faults,  and  seek  to 
persuade  him  he  had  lost  nothing  so  particularly 
valuable,  I  should  insult  her  memory,  be  a  liar, 
or  a  slanderer,  and  effect  nothing  more  than  make 
Wilhelm  for  ever  my  enemy;  he  would,  in  op- 
position to  this,  recount  all  her  virtues,  and  I 
should  come  off  too  short  in  the  reckoning. 
Ought  I  to  seek  another  Doris  for  him  1  It  must 
be  just  such  a  Doris  as  she  was;  and  yet  he 
would  feel  a  disgust  at  her.    Ah !  there  is  not 
such  another  Doris !"    His  lips  faltered,  and  his 
eyes  were  moist.    They  then  all  wept,  chiefly 
because  their  father  wept. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Wilhelm  was  not 
in  a  situation  to  take  care  of  his  child,  or  to  do 


any  thing  useful.  Margaret,  therefore,  took  the 
entire  charge  of  her  grandson,  fed  and  clothed 
him  in  her  old-fashioned  manner,  most  cleanlily. 
Her  daughters  taught  him  to  walk,  to  pray,  and 
repeat  devotional  verses;  and  when  Father  Still- 
ing came  from  the  wood  on  the  Saturday  even- 
ing, and  had  placed  himself  near  the  siove,  the 
little  one  came  tottering  to  him,  sought  to  climb 
upon  his  knee,  and  took,  exultingly,  the  piece  of 
bread-and-buiter  which  had  been  prepared  for 
him;  hunting  even  in  the  wallet  to  find  it,  and 
relishing  it  better  than  other  children  are  wont 
to  relish  the  best  rice-pap,  although  it  was  al- 
ways hard  and  dry  from  being  exposed  to  the 
air.  This  dry  bread-and-butter  Heinrich  ate  on 
his  grandfather's  lap,  during  which  the  latter 
sung  to  him  either  the  song, 

"  My  little  hen's  name  is  Geberli," 

or, 

"  Rider,  to  horse,  we're  coming'  along  !" 

making  always  at  the  same  time  the  movement 
of  a  trotting  horse  with  his  knee.  In  one  word, 
Stilling  had  the  art,  in  bringing  up  children,  of 
providing  every  moment  a  new  amusement  for 
Heinrich,  which  was  always  of  such  a  kind  as 
to  be  suitable  for  his  age;  that  is,  they  were 
comprehensible  to  him;  yet  in  such  a  manner, 
that  that  which  ought  always  to  be  had  in  ven- 
eration was  not  only  not  degraded,  but  repre- 
sented, as  it  -were,  en  passant,  as  great  and  beau- 
tiful. The  boy  thus  attained  a  fondness  for  his 
grandfather  which  exceeded  every  thing,  and 
hence  the  ideas  which  he  sought  to  impart  to 
ljim  found  entrance  into  his  mind.  What  the 
grandfather  said,  he  believed  without  further  re- 
flection. 

Wilhelm's  silent  grief  transformed  itself  grad- 
ually into  a  communicative  and  confidential 
sadness.  He  now  spoke  again  with  his  family ; 
they  conversed  for  days  together  about  Doris, 
sung  her  songs,  looked  at  her  clothes,  and  other 
things  of  the  kind.  Wilhelm  began  to  experi- 
ence a  feeling  of  delight  in  remembering  her,  and 
tasted  the  most  supreme  peace  when  he  repre- 
sented to  himself  that  in  a  few  short  years  death 
would  call  him  away  also;  when,  without  fear 
of  termination,  he  would  eternally  enjoy,  in  the 
society  of  his  Doris,  the  highest  felicity  of  which 
man  is  capable.  This  great  idea  produced  an 
entire  change  of  life,  to  which  the  following 
event  much  contributed.  Some  leagues  from 
Tiefenbach,  there  is  a  large  manor-house,  which 
had  fallen,  by  inheritance,  to  a  certain  Count. 
A  society  of  pious  people  had  rented  this  man- 
sion, and  had  established  a  manufacture  of  half- 
silk  stuffs,  by  which  they  maintained  themselves. 
Wise-heads  who  knew  the  fashions  of  the  world 
and  what  was  most  esteemed  in  it,  or,  in  one 
word,  people  of  consequence,  had  no  relish  for 
such  an  establishment.  They  knew  how  dis- 
graceful it  was,  in  the  great  world,  publicly  to 
profess  Jesus  Christ,  or  to  hold  meetings  in  or- 
der mutually  to  admonish  one  another  to  follow 
his  life  and  doctrine.  Hence  these  people  were 
despised  in  the  world,  in  the  eye  of  which  they 
were  of  no  value;  there  were  even  those  who 
gave  out  that  they  had  seen  all  kinds  of  abomi- 
nations practised  in  their  mansion,  by  which  the 
contempt  for  them  was  increased.  But  nothing 
could  vex  such  persons  more  than  when  they 
heard  that  these  people  even  rejoiced  at  such  re- 
viling, and  said  that  the  same  thing  had  hap- 
pened to  their  Master.  In  this  society,  there  was 
a  person  of  the  name  of  Nicolas,  a  man  of  un- 


14  HEINRICH 

common  genius  and  natural  gifts.  He  had 
studied  divinity,  and  having  discovered  the  de- 
fectiveness of  all  systems  of  religion,  had  also 
publicly  spoken  and  written  against  them;  on 
which  account  he  had  been  cast  into  prison,  but 
afterwards  released  from  it  again,  and  had  trav- 
elled for  a  long  time  with  a  certain  nobleman. 
In  order  to  live  freely  and  peaceably,  he  had  be- 
taken himself  amongst  these  people;  and  as  he 
understood  nothing  of  their  manufactory,  he  car- 
ried about  the  goods  they  manufactured,  for  sale, 
Dr  as  people  are  wont  to  say,  he  hawked  them. 
This  Nicolas  had  been  often  in  Selling's  house; 
but  as  he  knew  how  firmly  the  family  adhered  to 
the  principles  of  the  reformed  church  and  reli- 
gion, he  had  never  expressed  his  sentiments. 
On  this  occasion,  however,  when  Wilhelm  Still- 
ing began  to  divest  himself  of  his  gloomiest  sor- 
row, he  found  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him. 
This  conversation  is  of  importance ;  I  will 
therefore  subjoin  it,  as  Nicolas  himself  related 
it  to  me. 

After  Nicolas  had  seated  himself,  he  began : 
"  How  is  it  with  you  now,  Master  Stilling'? — can 
you  accommodate  yourself  yet  to  your  wife's 
decease  1" 

Wilhelm, — "  Not  very  well.  My  heart  is  still 
so  much  wounded,  that  it  bleeds; — however,  I 
begin  to  find  more  consolation." 

Nicolas. — "  Thus  it  happens,  Master  Stilling, 
when  we  attach  ourselves,  wTith  our  desires,  to 
any  thing  of  a  transitory  nature;  and  we  are 
certainly  happy  '  when  we  have  wives,  as  though 
we  had  none.5  (1  Cor.,  vii.  29.)  We  may  love 
them  cordially;  but  still  how  useful  it  is,  to  ex- 
ercise ourselves  in  mortifying  even  this  pleasure, 
and  denying  ourselves  in  it !  —the  loss  would  then 
certainly  not  be  so  grievous  to  us." 

WLUielm.—"  It  is  very  easy  to  preach  so  ;  but 
doing — doing — observing,  and  keeping,  is  anoth- 
er affair." 

Nicolas  smiled,  and  said,  "Certainly  it  is  dif- 
ficult, particularly  after  possessing  such  a  Doris ; 
but  yet,  if  any  one  is  in  earnest — if  he  only  be- 
lieves that  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  leads  to 
the  highest  felicity,  he  becomes  in  earnest — it  is 
then  not  so  difficult  as  people  may  imagine.  Let 
me  briefly  explain  the  whole  matter  to  you.  Je- 
sus Christ  has  left  us  a  doctrine,  which  is  so 
adapted  to  the  nature  of  the  human  soul  that,  if 
practised,  it  must  necessarily  render  the  individ- 
ual perfectly  happy.  If  we  go  through  all  the 
precepts  of  the  wise  men  of  this  world,  we  find  a 
number  of  rules,  which  hang  together  just  as  they 
have  formed  their  system.  At  one  time  they  are 
lame,  at  another,  they  run,  and  then  they  stand 
still.  The  doctrine  of  Christ  alone,  deduced 
from  the  deepest  mysteries  of  human  nature, 
never  fails,  and  perfectly  proves  to  him  who  has 
a  right  insight  into  it,  that  its  author  must  him- 
self have  been  the  Creator  of  man,  since  he 
knew  him  even  from  his  first  original  impulse. 
Man  has  an  infinite  hunger  after  pleasure — after 
pleasures  which  are  able  to  satisfy  him,  which 
ever  yield  something  new,  and  are  an  unceasing 
source 'of  new  delight.  But  we  do  not  find  any 
of  this  kind  in  the  whole  creation.  As  soon  as 
we  are  deprived  of  them  by  the  vicissitude  of 
things,  they  leave  a  pang  behind;  as  you,  for 
instance,  have  felt  at  the  loss  of  your  Doris. 
This  divine  Legislator  knew  that  the  origin  of 
all  human  actions  is  real  self-love.  Far  from 
expelling  this  motive,  which  is  capable  of  pro- 
ducing much  evil,  he  gives  us  the  means  of  en- 
nobling and  refining  it.    He  commands  us  to  act 


STILLING. 

towards  others  as  we  wish  them  to  act  towards 
us ;  if  we  do  so,  we  are  assured  of  their  love, — 
they  will  be  respectful  to  us,  and  cause  us  much 
enjoyment,  unless  they  are  wicked  men.  He 
commands  us  to  love  our  enemies : — now  as  soon 
as  we  show  love  and  kindness  to  an  enemy,  he 
will  be  certainly  tormented  to  the  utmost,  until 
he  is  reconciled  to  us ;  whilst  in  the  practice  of 
these  duties,  which  cost  us  only  a  little  trouble 
at  the  commencement,  we  ourselves  enjoy  an  in- 
ward peace,  which  far  exceeds  all  the  pleasures 
of  sense.  Besides  this,  pride  is  peculiarly  the 
source  of  all  our  social  vices,  of  all  disturbance, 
hatred,  and  infraction  of  peace.  Against  this 
root  of  all  evil,  there  is  no  better  remedy  than 
the  above-mentioned  laws  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  do 
not  wish,  at  present,  to  explain  myself  further  on 
the  subject;  I  only  meant  to  say,  that  it  is  well 
worth  the  trouble  to  employ  earnestness  in  obey- 
ing the  doctrine  of  Christ,  because  it  procures 
us  permanent  and  substantial  delights,  which  are 
able  to  counterbalance  the  loss  of  others." 

Wilhelm.—"  Repeat  all  this  to  me,  friend  Nic- 
olas! I  must  write  it  down;  I  believe  what  you 
say  is  true." 

Nicolas  rehearsed  it  very  cordially,  with  some 
little  addition  or  diminution,  and  Wilhelm  wrote 
it  down  as  he  repeated  it  to  him.  "But,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  if  we  are  to  be  saved  by  obedience 
to  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  of  what  use  are  his  life 
and  death  1  The  preachers  say,  we  cannot  keep 
the  commandments,  but  that  we  are  justified  and 
saved  only  through  faith  in  Christ,  and  by  his 
m^ts." 

Nicolas  smiled,  and  said,  "  We  will  speak  of 
this  some  other  time.  For  the  present,  look  at 
the  matter  thus:  that  even  as  by  his  pure  and 
holy  life,  in  which  he  walked  in  favour  both  with 
Cod  and  man,  he  has  enabled  us  to  take  a  free 
survey  of  our  mortal  existence,  and  of  the  con- 
fused state  of  earthly  things,  that  by  looking  unto 
him,  we  might  be  encouraged,  and  hope  in  the 
grace  that  rules  over  us,  for  the  attainment  of 
greater  simplicity  of  heart,  with  which  we  can 
make  our  way  every  where ;  so  He  has  also,  I 
say,  planted  his  cross  in  the  night  of  death,  where 
the  sun  goes  down,  and  the  moon  loses  her  light, 
in  order  that  we  may  look  up,  and  with  humble 
hope,  exclaim,  '  Remember  me !'  We  are  thus 
saved  by  his  merits,  if  you  will;  for  He  has  paid 
dearly  and  severely  enough  to  ransom  his  peo- 
ple from  eternal  death,  and  thus  we  are  saved  by 
faith;  for  faith  is  salvation.  But  in  the  mean 
time,  do  not  let  this  trouble  you;  and  be  faith- 
ful in  small  things,  otherwise  you  will  accom- 
plish nothing  great.  I  will  leave  with  you  a  lit- 
tle tract,  translated  from  the  French  of  Arch- 
bishop Fenelon;  it  treats  of  fidelity  in  small 
things.  I  will  also  bring  with  me,  for  you,  the 
Imitation  of  Christ,  by  Thomas  ä  Kempis,  which 
will  instruct  you  further." 

I  cannot  exactly  say  whether  Wilhelm  re- 
ceived this  doctrine  from  real  conviction,  or 
whether  the  state  of  his  heart  was  such,  that  he 
felt  its  beauty  without  examining  its  truth.  Cer- 
tainly, when  I  reflect  coolly  on  this  discourse  of 
Nicolas,  I  find  that  though  I  cannot  agree  with 
it  altogether,  yet  on  the  whole  it  is  good  and  ex- 
cellent. 

Wilhelm  purchased  a  few  ells  of  cloth  of  Nic- 
olas, for  which  he  had  no  immediate  occasion; 
and  then  the  good  preacher  took  up  his  bundle 
on  his  back,  and  went  away,  promising  however 
to  return  soon ;  and  Nicolas  doubtless  thanked 
God  heartily,  all  the  way  across  the  Giller,  for 


STILLING'S  CHILDHOOD. 


15 


Wilhelm's  conversion.  The  latter  now  found  a 
deep  and  irresistible  inclination  in  his  soul  to  re- 
nounce the  whole  world,  and  to  live  alone  with 
his  child,  in  an  upper  room  of  the  house.  His 
sister  Elizabeth  was  married  to  one  Simon,  a 
linen-weaver,  who  took  his  place  in  the  house  ; 
and  he  betook  himself  to  Kis  room,  procured 
some  books  which  Nicolas  had  recommended, 
and  lived  there,  in  this  manner,  many  years  with 
his  boy. 

During  this  time,  the  whole  of  Wilhelm's  en- 
deavors were  directed,  first,  to  the  supply  of  his 
necessities,  by  means  of  his  trade  as  a  lailor;  for 
he  gave  a  considerable  sum  weekly  to  his  pa- 
rents for  the  board  of  himself  and  his  chi!  i ; — 
next,  to  quench  every  inclination  of  the  heart 
which  had  not  reference  to  eternity;  and  finally, 
also  to  educate  his  son  in  the  same  principles, 
which  he  imagined  to  be  true  and  firmly  found- 
ed. He  rose  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
began  his  work;  at  seven  he  awoke  his  little 
Heinrich,  and  reminded  him  in  a  familiar  man- 
ner of  the  goodness  of  God,  who  had  watched 
over  him,  by  his  angels,  during  the  night. 
"Thank  him  for  it,  my  child,"  said  Wilhelm, 
whilst  dressing  the  boy.  When  this  was  done, 
he  was  made  to  wash  himself  in  cold  water,  and 
Wilhelm  then  took  him  with  him,  shut  the  room- 
door,  and  fell  on  his  knees  with  him  at  the  bed- 
side, and  prayed  with  the  utmost  fervour  of  spirit 
to  God,  during  which  the  tears  often  flowed  co- 
piously to  the  ground.  The  boy  then  had  his 
breakfast,  which  he  was  obliged  to  take  with  as 
much  decorum  and  order  as  if  he  had  been  eat- 
ing in  the  presence  of  a  prince.  He  had  after- 
wards to  read  a  small  portion  of  the  catechism, 
and  gradually  learn  it  by  rote ;  he  was  also  permit- 
ted to  read  old  and  pleasing  tales,  adapted  to  the 
capacity  of  a  child ;  some  of  which  were  reli- 
gious, and  others  of  a  worldly  nature,  such  as 
the  "  Emperor  Octavian,  with  his  wife  and  son ;" 
the  "  History  of  the  Four  Children  of  Haymon ;" 
"  the  Beautiful  Melusina,"  and  the  like.  Wil- 
helm never  permitted  the  boy  to  play  with  other 
children;  but  kept  him  so  secluded,  that  in  the 
seventh  year  of  his  age  he  knew  none  of  the 
neighbours'  children,  though  well  acquainted 
";th  a  whole  row  of  fine  books.  Hence  it  was, 
tnatv;s  whole  soul  began  to  delight  in  that  which 
T3yf  Jieil'"  his  imagination  was  excited,  because 
it  naci  no  cnw  0Djects  tnan  j^eal  persons  and 
actions.  1  he  i^oes  of  old  romance  wh0Se  vir- 
tues were  described  :n  an  exaggerated  manner, 
fixed  themselves  impei^ptibly  in  his  mind  as 
so  many  objects  worthy  oc  imitation,  and  vice 
was  in  the  highest  degree  r^nant  to  him. 
But  because  he  was  continually  hearing  of  God 
and  pious  men,  he  was  imperceptibly  piaCed  in 
a  peculiar  point  of  view,  from  when£>  he  ob- 
served every  thing.  The  first  thing  he  inq^red 
after,  when  he  had  read  or  heard  of  any  one,hao 
reference  to  his  sentiments  towards  God  and 
Christ.  Hence,  when  he  had  once  obtained  Got- 
fried  Arnold's  lives  of  the  Primitive  Fathers,  he 
could  not  cease  from  reading  it;  and  this  book, 
together  with  Reitz's  History  of  the  Regenerate, 
continued  his  chief  delight  till  the  tenth  year  of 
his  age;  but  all  these  persons,  whose  biography 
he  read,  remained  so  firmly  idealized  in  his  ima- 
gination that  he  never  forgot  ihem  during  his 
whole  life. 

In  the  afternoon,  from  two  to  three  o'clock,  or 
even  somewhat  later,  Wilhelm  let  him  walk  in 
the  orchard  and  the  Geisenberg  forest :  he  had 
appointed  him  a  district  there,  which  he  was  at 


liberty  to  appropriate  for  his  amusement,  but 
which  he  was  not  to  exceed  without  the  company 
of  his  father.  This  district  was  not  larger  than 
Wilhelm  could  overlook  from  his  window,  in 
order  that  he  might  never  lose  sight  of  him.. 
When  the  time  appointed  had  expired,  or  if  only 
a  neighbour's  child  approached  Heinrich,  though 
distantly,  Wilhelm  whistled,  and  on  this  signal 
he  was  in  a  moment  again  with  his  father. 

This  district,  Stilling's  orchard,  and  a  portion 
of  the  forest  which  bordered  on  the  garden,  werg 
therefore  daily  visited  by  our  youth,  when  the 
weather  was  fine,  and  made  entirely  into  ideal 
landscapes.  There  was  an  Egyptian  desert,  in 
which  he  transformed  a  bush  into  a  cave,  where 
he  hid  himself,  representing  St.  Anthony;  and, 
in  his  enthusiasm,  also  occasionally  prayed  very 
heartily.  In  another  part  was  the  fountain  of 
Melusina;  there  was  also  the  land  of  the  Turks, 
where  the  sultan  and  his  daughter,  the  fair  Mar- 
cebilla,  dwelt;  and  on  a  rock,  there  was  the  cas- 
tle Montalban,  in  which  Rinold  lived,  &c.  To 
these  places  he  made  a  pilgrimage  daily ;  and  no 
one  can  form  an  idea  of  the  delight  which  the 
boy  there  enjoyed  ;  he  stammered  out  verses,  and 
had  poetic  feelings.  Such  was  the  nature  of  this 
child's  education,  till  he  was  ten  years  old.  One 
thing  more  must  be  mentioned  here.  Wilhelm 
was  very  strict;  he  punished  the  smallest  trans- 
gression of  his  commands  most  severely  with  the 
rod.  Hence  there  was  added  to  the  above-men- 
tioned fundamental  feelings,  a  certain  timidity 
in  young  Stilling's  soul ;  and  from  fear  of  cor- 
rection, he  sought  to  hide  and  conceal  his  faults,, 
so  that  he  gradually  let  himself  be  seduced  to 
telling  falsehoods,  a  propensity  which  afterwards 
gave  him  much  trouble  to  overcome,  even  to  his 
twentieth  year.  Wilhelm's  intention  was  to 
bring  up  his  son  to  be  docile  and  obedient,  in  or- 
der to  render  him  capable  of  keeping  divine  and 
human  laws;  and  it  seemed  to  him,  that  a  cer- 
tain severity  was  the  shortest  way  to  attain  his 
object ;  and  thus  he  could  not  comprehend  whence 
it  came,  that  the  felicity  he  enjoyed  in  the  good 
qualities  of  his  boy  should  be  so  hatefully  em- 
bittered by  the  vice  of  lying,  in  which  he  often 
caught  him.  He  redoubled  his  severity,  particu- 
larly when  he  perceived  he  was  telling  an  un- 
truth ;  however,  he  effected  nothing  more  than 
causing  Heinrich  to  employ  every  possible  art 
to  make  his  falsehood  more  probable,  and  thus 
the  good  Wilhelm  was  still  deceived.  No  soon- 
er did  the  boy  perceive  he  was  successful,  than 
he  rejoiced  and  even  thanked  God  that  he  had 
found  a  means  of  escaping  punishment.  How- 
ever, I  must  mention  this  to  his  credit,  that  he 
never  spoke  falsely  except  when  he  was  able,  by 
so  doing,  to  avoid  correction. 

Old  Stilling  regarded  all  this  very  quietly, 
His  son's  austere  mode  of  life  he  never  coa- 
demned;  but  smiled  occasionally,  and  shook  his 
grey  locks,  when  he  saw  how  Wilhelm  seized 
the  rod,  because  the  boy  had  eaten  or  done  some- 
thing contrary  to  his  orders.  He  would  then 
say  in  the  absence  of  the  child,  "  Wilhelm,  he 
that  does  not  wish  to  have  his  commands  re- 
peatedly transgressed,  must  not  command  much. 
All  men  love  liberty."  "Yes,"  said  Wilhelm, 
"  but  the  boy  will  become  wilful."  Forbid  him 
his  faults,"  rejoined  the  old  man,  "  when  he  is 
about  to  commit  them,  and  inform  him  why; 
but  if  thou  hast  previously  forbidden  it,  the  boy 
forgets  the  many  commands  and  prohibitions, 
and  is  always  in  fault;  whilst  meanwhile  thou 
must  make  thy  words  good,  and  thus  there  is  no 


16 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


end  to  chastising."  Wilhelm  acknowledged 
this,  and  gradually  let  ihe  greater  part  of  his 
rules  lall  into  oblivion.  He  now  governed  no 
longer  so  much  according  to  laws,  but  entirely 
in  monarchical  style;  he  gave  his  orders  always 
when  they  were  needful,  regulated  them  accord- 
ing to  circumstances,  and  the  boy  was  no  long- 
er chastised  so  much  ;  his  whole  mode  of  life  be- 
came somewhat  more  animated,  free,  and  noble. 

Heinrich  Stilling  was  therefore  educated  in 
an  extraordinary  manner,  entirely  without  the 
society  of  others;  hence  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
•world,  and  nothing  of  vice;  he  was  ignorant  of 
treachery  and  frivolity  ;  praying,  reading,  and 
writing  was  his  occupation.  His  mind  was 
therefore  filled  with  few  things;  but  all  that  was 
in  it  was  so  lively,  clear,  refined,  and  ennobled, 
that  his  expressions,  speeches,  and  actions'- are 
not  to  be  described.  The  whole  family  were  as- 
tonished at  the  boy ;  and  old  Stilling  often  said, 
"  The  lad  is  soaring  away  from  us ;  the  feathers 
are  growing  larger  upon  him  than  was  ever  the 
case  with  any  other  of  our  family;  we  must 
pray  that  God  will  guide  him  by  his  good  Spir- 
it." All  the  neighbours  who  visited  Stilling, 
and  saw  the  boy,  were  amazed,  for  they  under- 
stood nothing  of  all  he  said,  although  he  spoke 
good  German.  Amongst  others,  neighbour  Stah- 
ler once  came  thither,  because  he  wanted  Wil- 
helm to  make  him  a  great-coat;  however,  his 
chief  object  in  this  was  a  secret  hope  to  provide 
for  his  daughter  Maria-,  for  Stilling  was  respect- 
ed in  the  village,  and  Wilhelm  was  pious  and 
diligent.  Young  Heinrich  might  be  about  eight 
years  old ;  he  sat  on  a  chair,  and  read  in  a  book, 
looking,  according  to  custom,  very  serious;  and 
I  do  not  believe  that  up  to  that  time  he  had  ever 
laughed  loudly  in  his  whole  life.  Stahler  look- 
ed at  him,  and  said,  "  Heinrich,  what  art  thou 
doing  there  V- 

Heinrich.— •"  I  am  reading." 

Stahler. — "Art  thou  able  to  read  already?" 

Heinrich  looked  at  him  with  astonishment,  and 
said,  "  That  is  a  foolish  question,  for  1  am  a  hu- 
man being."  He  then  read  aloud  with  ease, 
proper  emphasis,  and  due  distinction.  Stahler 

was  amazed,  and  said,  "The  d  fetch  me! 

I  have  never  seen  the  like  in  all  my  life."  At 
this  imprecation,  Heinrich  jumped  up,  and  look- 
ed timidly  around  him  ;  at  length,  when  he  saw 
that  the  devil  did  not  come,  he  exclaimed,  "O 
God,  how  gracious  art  thou!"  stepped  up  to 
Stahler,  and  said,  "Man,  have  you  ever  seen 
Satan  1"  "No,"  answered  Stabler.  "Then 
call  upon  him  no  more,"  rejoined  Heinrich,  and 
went  into  another  room. 

The  fame  of  this  boy  resounded  far  and  wide ; 
every  one  spoke  of  him  with  astonishment.  Even 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein  himself  was  curious  to 
see  him.  Now  Heinrich  had  never  been  at 
church,  and  had  consequently  never  yet  seen  p 
man  with  a  large  white  wig  and  fine  wack 
clothes.  The  clergyman  came  to  T;crenbach; 
and  having,  perhaps,  previously  entered  some 
other  house,  his  arrival  was  already  known  in 
Stilling's  house,  and  the  reason  of  his  coming. 
Wilhelm,  therefore,  instructed  his  boy  Heinrich 
how  to  behave  when  the  clergyman  should  come. 
At  length  he  appeared,  and  old  Stilling  with  him. 
Heinrich  stood  straight  up  by  the  wall,  like  a 
soldier  presenting  arms;  he  held  in  his  folded 
hands  his  cap,  composed  of  blue  and  grey  rem- 
nants of  cloth,  and  regarded  the  clergyman  full 
in  the  face.  Afier  Mr.  Stollbein  had  seated  him- 
self, and  spoken  a  few  words  with  Wilhelm,  he 


turned  towards  the  wall,  and  said,  "  Good  morn- 
ing, Heinrich !" 

Heinrich. —  •'  People  say  good  morning  as  soon 
as  they  enter  the  room." 

Stollbein  perceived  with  whom  he  had  to  do; 
he  therefore  turned  himself  with  his  chair  to- 
wards him,  and  continued,  "  Dost  thou  know 
the  catechism  V 

Heinrich. — "  Not  the  whole  of  it." 

Stollbein. — "How!  not  the  whole  of  if?  That 
is  the  first  thing  children  ought  to  learn." 

Heinrich. — "  No,  your  reverence,  that  is  not 
the  first ;  children  must  first  learn  to  pray,  that 
God  may  give  them  understanding  to  compre- 
hend the  catechism." 

Mr.  Stollbein  was  already  seriously  vexed, 
and  had  studied  out  a  severe  lecture  for  Wilhelm, 
but  this  answer  startled  him.  "In  what  way 
dost  thou  pray  V  inquired  he  further. 

Heinrich. — "  I  pray,  '  Gracious  God,  give  me 
understanding  that  I  may  comprehend  what  I 
read.'  " 

Stollbein.— "  That  is  right,  my  son;  continue 
to  pray  thus." 

Heinrich. — "  You  are  not  my  father." 

Stollbein. — "  I  am  thy  spiritual  father." 

Heinrich, — "No,  God  is  my  spiritual  father: 
you  are  a  man  ;  a  man  cannot  be  a  spirit." 

Stollbein. — "What!  hast  thou  no  spirit,  no 
soul?" 

Heinrich. — "Yes,  certainly!  How  can  you 
ask  such  a  simple  question  ?  But  1  know  my 
father." 

Stollbein. — "  Dost  thou  know  God,  thy  spirit- 
ual father?" 

Heinrich  smiled  and  said,  "  Should  not  a  man 
know  God  V' 

Stollbein.— "  But  thou  hast  never  seen  him." 

Heinrich  did  not  reply,  but  fetched  his  well- 
used  Bible,  and  pointed  out  to  the  clergyman  the 
passage  in  Rom.  i.  19,  20. 

Stollbein  had  now  heard  enough.  He  told 
the  boy  to  leave  the  room,  and  said  to  his  father, 
"  Your  ehild  will  surpass  all  his  forefathers; 
continue  to  keep  him  well  under  the  rod  ;  the 
boy  will  become  a  great  man  in  the  world." 

Wilhelm  still  continued  to  feel  the  wound  oc- 
casioned by  the  death  of  Doris,  and  cons  antV 
sighed  after  her.  He  now  also  occasionally  v°oj£ 
his  boy  with  him  to  the  old  castle,  po^ted  out 
to  him  the  tracks  and  footsteps  of  l^  deceased 
mother,  and  all  that  she  had  ar^  sPoken 
there.    Heinrich  became  s^che^  1°  l,ne  mf m; 


ory  of  his  mother,  that 


ie  made  all  he  heard  of 


her  his  own,  which  Plefued  Wilhelm  so  well 
that  he  could  not  conceal  his  joy. 

Once  on  a  fine  evening  in  autumn,  the  two 
lovers  of  the  departed  Doris  went  about  the  ru- 
ins 0f  tk6  castle,  and  sought  for  snail-shells, 
wh>a  were  very  numerous  there.  Doris  had 
taken  great  pleasure  in  so  doing.  Heinrich 
found  under  a  stone,  near  a  wall,  a  pocket-knife, 
with  a  yellow  back  and  green  handle.  It  was 
still  not  at  all  rusty,  partly  from  lying  in  a  dry 
place,  and  partly  because  it  was  so  covered,  that 
the  rain  could  not  fall  upon  it.  Heinrich  was 
glad  on  finding  it,  ran  to  his  father,  and  shewed 
it  him.  Wilhelm  looked  at  it,  grew  pale,  and 
began  to  sob  and  weep.  Heinrich  was  terrified, 
and  the  tears  already  stood  in  his  eyes  without 
knowing  why,  nor  did  he  dare  to  ask.  He  turn- 
ed the  knife  about,  and  saw  written  with  aqua- 
fortis upon  the  blade,  "Johanna  Dorothea  Cath- 
arina  Stilling."  He  cried  aloud,  and  fell  down 
like  one  dead.    Wilhelm  heard  the  reading  of 


STILLING'S  CHILDHOOD. 


17 


the  name,  as  weh  as  the  loud  cry ;  he  sat  down 
by  the  boy,  and  sought  to  bring  him  to  himself. 
Whilst  he  was  thus  occupied,  he  felt  inwardly 
happy;  he  found  himself  comforted,  he  took  the 
toy  in  his  arms,  pressed  him  to  his  breast,  and 
experienced  a  delight  which  for  a  time  excluded 
every  other  feeling.  He  drew  near  unto  God  as 
unto  his  friend,  and  thought  he  ascended  into 
the  glory  of  heaven,  and  saw  Doris  amongst  the 
angels. "  Meanwhile  Heinrich  came  to  himself 
again,  and  found  himself  in  his  father's  arms. 
He  could  not  recollect  that  his  father  had  ever 
had  him  in  his  arms  before.  His  whole  soul 
was  penetrated ;  tears  of  the  strongest  emotion 
flowed  down  his  full  and  snow-white  cheeks. 
"  Father,  do  you  love  me  V  asked  he.  Wilhelm 
tad  never  either  joked  or  trifled  with  his  child ; 
therefore  the  boy  knew  of  no  other  father  "but  a 
grave  and  severe  man,  whom  he  was  obliged  to 
fear  and  honor.  Wilhelm's  head  sunk  upon 
Heinrich's  breast;  he  said,  "Yes!"  and  wept 
aloud.  Heinrich  was  beside  himself,  and  on  the 
point  of  fainting  away  again  ;  but  his  father  sud- 
denly rising  up,  placed  him  upon  his  feet.  He 
was  scarcely  able  to  stand.  "  Come,"  said  Wil- 
helm, "we  will  walk  about  a  little."  They 
sought  for  the  knife,  but  could  not  find  it  again"; 
it  had  certainly  fallen  down  deep  between  the 
stones.  They  searched  long,  but  found  it  not. 
No  one  was  more  grieved  than  Heinrich;  his 
father  however  led  him  away,  and  spoke  to  him 
as  follows : 

"  My  son,  thou  wilt  now  soon  be  nine  years 
old.  I  have  taught  and  instructed  thee  as  well 
as  I  am  able,  and  thou  hast  now  so  much  sense 
that  I  can  talk  rationally  to  thee.  Thou  hast 
much  before  thee  in  the  world,  and  I  myself  am 
still  young.  We  shall  not  be  able  to  end  our 
lives  in  our  chamber;  we  must  again  associate 
with  mankind;  I  will  keep  school  again,  and 
thou  shalt  go  with  me,  and  learn  further.  Em- 
ploy thyself  in  any  thing  that  gives  thee  pleasure  ; 
thou  shalt  have  no  want  of  books.;  but  in  order 
that  thou  mayest  have  something  certain,  by 
which  thou  canst  earn  thy  bread,  thou  must  learn 
my  trade.  If  God  graciously  gives  thee  a  better 
vocation,  thou  wilt  have  reason  to  thank  him ; 
but  no  one  will  despise  thee  for  being  my  son, 
even  wert  thou  to  become  a  prince."  Hein- 
rich was  delighted  with  his  father's  confidential 
manner;  his  soul  became  infinitely  enlarged; 
he  felt  such  a  gentle  uncontrollable  freedom  as 
is  not  to  be  described;  he  experienced  now  for 
the  first  time  that  he  was  treated  as  a  human  be- 
ing. He  looked  at  his  father,  and  said,  "  I  will 
do  all  that  you  wish  me  to  do."  Wilhelm  smi- 
led at  him,  and  continued,  11  Thou  wilt  be  suc- 
cessful in  the  world ;  only  thou  must  never  for- 
get to  cultivate  a  confidential  communion  with 
God,  who  will  take  thee  into  his  protection,  and 
preserve  thee  from  all  evil."  During  this  con- 
versation they  arrived  at  home  and  entered  their 
chamber.  From  that  time,  Wilhelm  appeared 
to  be  entirely  changed ;  his  heart  was  again 
opened,  and  his  religious  sentiments  did  not  hin- 
der him  from  going  amongst  people.  All  men, 
even  the  rudest,  felt  a  reverence  in  his  presence; 
for  his  whole  man  had  put  on,  in  his  retirement, 
an  irresistible,  gentle  gravity,  through  which  a 
pure  and  simple  soul  beamed  forth.  He  also 
frequently  took  his  son  with  him,  to  whom  he 
felt  an  entirely  new  and  warm  affection.  He 
had  perceived,  in  the  finding  of  the  knife,  Doris's 
f nti re  character  in  the  boy;  he  was  his  and 
Doris's  son,  and  at  this  discovery  all  his  affec- 


tion was  transferred  to  Heinrich,  and  he  found 
Doris  again  in  him. 

Wilhelm  now  conducted  his  boy,  for  the  first 
time,  to  church.  He  was  astonished  at  every 
thing  he  saw ;  but  as  soon  as  the  organ  began 
to  play,  his  sensations  became  too  powerful,  and 
he  was  slightly  convulsed.  Every  soft  harmo- 
ny melted  him  ;  the  minor  keys  caused  his  tears 
to  flow,  and  the  rapid  allegro'  made  him  spring 
up.  However  indifferently  the  good  organist 
understood  his  trade,  Wilhelm  found  it,  notwith- 
standing, impossible  to  prevent  his  son,  after  the 
sermon,  from  going  to  look  at  the  organist  and 
his  organ.  He  saw  them;  and  the  virtuoso,  to 
please  him,  played  an  andante,  which  was  per- 
haps the  first  time  that  this  had  ever  been  done 
in  the  church  at  Florenburg  to  please  a  peasant's 
boy. 

Heinrich  now  saw  also,  for  the  first  time,  his 
mother's  grave.  He  wished  he  could  likewise 
have  seen  her  remains;  but  as  this  could  not  be, 
he  sat  himself  down  upon  the  mound  of  grass 
that  covered  the  grave,  plucked  a  few  autumnal 
flowers  and  plants  that  grew  upon  it,  put  them 
into  his  button-hole,  and  went  away.  He  did 
not  feel  so  much  on  this  occasion  as  on  finding 
the  knife ;  however,  both  he  and  his  father  had 
wept  their  eyes  red.  The  former  circumstance 
was  sudden  and  unexpected,  but  the  latter  un- 
dertaken considerately ;  the  sensations  produced 
by  the  church  music  were  also  still  too  powerful, 
in  his  heart. 

Old  Stilling  now  likewise  perceived  how 
much  his  son  Wilhelm  was  consoled.  He  saw, 
with  inward  delight,  all  the  reciprocal  kindness 
and  affection  manifested  by  him  and  his  child ; 
he  became  by  this,  still  more  animated,  and  al- 
most renovated. 

One  Monday  morning  in  the  spring,  as  he 
went  to  his  occupation  in  the  woods,  he  request- 
ed Wilhelm  to  let  his  grandson  accompany  him. 
The  latter  consented,  and  Heinrich  was  highly 
delighted.  As  they  ascended  the  Giller,  the  old 
man  said,  "  Heinrich,  relate  to  me  the  history 
of  the  beautiful  Melusiana  ;  I  listen  so  gladly  to 
ancient  tales,  and  then  the  time  will  not  seem 
long  to  us."  Heinrich  related  it  very  circum- 
stantially, with  the  greatest  pleasure.  Falher 
Stilling  made  as  if  he  were  quite  astonished  at 
the  tale,  and  as  if  he  believed  it  in  all  its  details. 
But  this  was  necessary,  in  order  not  to  vex  Hein- 
rich ;  for  he  believed  all  these  tales  as  firmly  as 
the  Bible  itself.  The  place  where  Stilling  burnt 
charcoal  was  three  leagues  from  Tiefenbach ; 
the  road  to  it  lay  entirely  through  the  wood. 
Heinrich,  who  idealized  every  thing  he  saw, 
found  nothing  but  a  paradise  the  whole  of  the 
way.  Every  thing  seemed  to  him  beautiful  and 
faultless.  A  very  dark  beech-tree,  which  he  saw 
at  some  distance  before  him,  with  its  beautiful 
green  light  and  shade,  made  an  impression  upon 
him;  the  whole  country  around  was  immediate- 
ly ideal,  and  heavenly-beautiful  in  his  eyes. 
They  at  length  reached  the  scene  of  labor,  on  a 
very  high  hill.  The  woodman's  hut  covered 
with  sods,  immediately  attracted  young  Stilling's 
attention  ;  he  crept  into  it,  saw  the  mossy  couch 
and  the  fireplace  between  two  rough  stones,  and 
was  highly  delighted.  During  the  time  that  his 
grandfather  was  at  work,  he  went  about  in  the 
wood,  and  contemplated  all  the  beauties  of  the 
scenery  around,  and  of  nature  ;  every  thing  was 
new  and  unspeakably  charming  to  him.  One 
evening,  when  they  intended  to  return  home  the 
day  following,  they  sat  down  in  front  of  the  hut, 


13 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


just  as  the  sun  was  set.  "Grandfather,"  said 
Heinrich,  "  when  I  read  in  the  books  that  the 
heroes  were  able  to  reckon  so  far  back  who  were 
their  forefathers,  I  wish  that  I  also  knew  who 
rny  forefathers  were.  Who  knows  whether  we 
are  not  likewise  descended  from  some  great  man 
or  prince  !  My  mother's  forefathers  were  all  of 
them  preachers,  but  I  do  not  yet  know  yours'.  I 
will  write  them  all  down  if  you  will  tell  me 
them."  Father  Stilling  smiled,  and  replied,  "  It 
would  be  hard  to  prove  that  we  were  descended 
from  a  prince ;  but  that  is  all  the  same  to  me, 
nor  must  thou  wish  it.  Thy  forefathers  were  all 
honest  and  pious  people ;  there  are  few  princes 
that  can  say  that.  Let  this  be  thy  greatest  hon- 
or in  the  world,  that  thy  grandfather,  great-grand- 
father, and  their  fathers,  were  all  men  who, 
though  they  had  nothing  under  their  command 
out  of  their  house,  were  notwithstanding  beloved 
and  honored  by  all  men.  None  of  them  married 
in  a  dishonorable  manner,  or  transgressed  with 
any  female;  none  of  them  ever  coveted  that 
which  was  not  his,  and  all  died  honorably  at  a 
very  great  age."  Heinrich  rejoiced,  and  said, 
"I  shall  then  find  all  my  forefathers  in  heav- 
en." "  Yes,"  replied  his  grandfather,  l!  that  thou 
wilt;  our  family  will  there  bloom  and  flour- 
ish ;  Heinrich,  remember  this  evening  as  long 
as  thou  livest.  In  the  world  to  come,  we  shall 
be  of  high  nobility :  do  not  lose  this  privilege. 
Our  blessing  will  rest  upon  thee,  as  long  as  thou 
art  pious ;  but  if  thou  become  wicked,  and  de- 
spise thy  parents,  we  shall  not  know  thee  in  the 
next  world."  Heinrich  began  to  weep,  and  said, 
"  Do  not  fear  that,  grandfather !  I  will  be  reli- 
gious, and  rejoice  that  my  name  is  Stilling.  But 
tell  me  what  you  know  of  our  forefathers."  Fa- 
ther Stilling  narrated  as  follows: 

"My  great-grandfather's  father's  name  was 
Ulli  Stilling.    He  was  born  about  the  year  1500. 
I  know,  from  ancient  letters,  that  he  came  to  Tie- 
ienbach,  where,  in  1530,  he  married  the  daughter 
of  Hans  Stahler.    He  came  from  Switzerland, 
and  was  acquainted  with  Zuinglius.    He  was 
a  very  pious  man;  and  so  strong,  that  once  he 
recovered  his  four  cows  from  five  robbers,  who 
had  stolen  them  from  him.    In  the  year  1536  he 
had  a  son,  who  was  called  Reinhard  Stilling ; 
this  was  my  great-grandfather.    He  was  a  quiet 
and  retired  man,  who  did  good  to  every  one.  In 
his  50th  year,  he  married  a  very  young  woman, 
by  whom  he  had  many  children.    In  his  60th 
year  his  wife  bare  him  a  son  called  Heinrich 
Stilling,  who  was  my  grandfather.  He  was  born 
in  1596,  and  lived  to  be  101  years  old;  therefore 
I  just  knew  him.    This  Heinrich  was  a  very 
active  man ;  in  his  youth  he  bought  himself  a 
horse,  became  a  carrier,  and  travelled  to  Bruns- 
wick, Brabant,  and  Saxony.    He  was  at  the 
head  of  a  number  of  carriers,  and  had  generally 
from  twenty  to  thirty  people  with  him.    At  that 
time  robberies  were  very  frequent,  and  but 
few  inns  on  the  road,  so  that  the  carriers  took 
their  provision  with  them.    In  the  evening  they 
ranged  the  carts  in  a  circle,  close  to  each  other ; 
the  horses  were  placed  in  the  midst,  and  my 
grandfather  with  the  carriers  were  with  them. 
After  feeding  the  horses,  he  called  out  '  To  pray- 
ers, neighbours.'  They  then  all  came,  and  Hein- 
rich Stilling  prayed  to  God  very  earnestly.  One 
of  them  kept  watch,  and  the  others  crept  under 
their  carts,  where  it  was  dry,  and  slept.  But 
they  had  always  sabres  and  well-loaded  muskets 
with  them.    Now  it  once  happened  that  my 
grandfather  himself  had  the  watch,  when  they 


were  encamped  in  a  meadow  in  the  Hessian  ter- 
ritory ;  there  were  twenty-six  of  them,  strong 
men.    Towards  eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening 
he  heard  some  horses  entering  the  meadow  ;  he 
awoke  all  the  carriers  very  quietly,  and  placed 
each  behind  his  cart.    But  Heinrich  Stilling 
kneeled  down  and  prayed  by  himself,  very  fer- 
vently.   At  length  he  ascended  his  cart,  and 
looked  about.    The  moon  was  on  the  point  of 
setting,  so  that  there  was  just  light  enough.  He 
then  saw  about  twenty  men  dismounting  from 
their  horses,  and  softly  approaching  the  carts. 
He  crept  down  again,  went  under  the  cart,  that 
they  might  not  see  him,  and  gave  heed  to  what 
they  were  doing.    The  robbers  went  round  about 
the  barricado,  and  on  finding  no  admission,  they 
began  to  draw  one  of  the  carts.    Stilling,  as  soon 
as  he  saw  that,  called  out, 1  Fire,  in  God's  name !' 
Each  of  the  carriers  had  cocked  his  gun,  and 
shot  from  under  the  carts,  so  that  six  of  the  rob- 
bers immediately  fell ;  the  rest  of  them  were  ter- 
rified, drew  back  a  little,  and  conversed  together. 
The  carriers,  meanwhile,  reloaded  their  mus- 
kets.   'Now,'  said  Stilling, 'give  heed:  when- 
they  come  near  again,  then  fire  !'  However, 
they  did  not  come,  but  rode  away.    At  daybreak, 
the  carriers  yoked  their  horses  again,  and  pro- 
ceeded further ;  every  one  carried  his  loaded  gun, 
and  his  sword,  for  they  were  not  safe.    In  the 
forenoon,  they  again  saw  some  horsemen  riding 
towards  them  out  of  the  wood.    Stilling  drove 
first,  and  all  the  rest  after  him.    He  then  called 
out,  'Every  man  behind  his  cart,  and  his  mus- 
ket cocked !'    The  horsemen  halted,  and  the 
chief  of  them  rode  up  to  them  alone,  unarmed, 
and  called  out  for  the  head-carrier  to  appear. 
My  grandfather  stepped  forth,  with  his  gun  in 
his  hand,  and  his  sword  under  his  arm.  'We 
come  as  friends,'  said  the  horseman.  Heinrich 
did  not  trust  him  ;  but  stood  still.    The  cavalier 
dismounted,  offered  him  his  hand,  and  asked 
whether  they  had  not  been  attacked  by  robbers 
in  the  night.    '  Yes,'  answered  my  grandfather, 
'not  far  from  Hirschfeld,  in  a  meadow.'  'Just 
so,'  replied  the  horseman;  'we  have  pursued 
them,  and  just  reached  the  meadow  as  they  rode 
off,  after  you  had  blown  out  the  light  of  some  of 
them;  you  are  brave  people.'    Stilling  asked 
who  he  was.    The  cavalier  answered,  'I  am 
Count  Wittgenstein  ;  I  will  give  you  ten  horse- 
men for  an  escort,  for  I  have  still  people  enough 
with  me  in  the  wood  behind.'    Stilling  accepted 
them,  and  agreed  with  the  Count  how  much  he 
should  give  him  yearly,  if  he  would  always  es- 
cort him  through  Hesse.    The  Count  promised 
to  do  so,  and  the  carriers  drove  home.  This 
grandfather  of  mine  was  married  in  his  twenty- 
second  year,  and  in  his  twenty-fourth— that  is, 
in  1620 — he  had  a  son  called  Hanns  Stilling; 
this  was  my  father.    He  lived  quietly,  employ- 
ed himself  in  husbandry,  and  served  God.  He 
lived  through  the  whole  of  the  thirty  years'  war, 
and  often  fell  into  the  greatest  poverty.    He  be- 
gat ten  children,  of  whom  I  am  the  youngest.  I 
was  born  in  1680,  just  as  my  father  was  sixty 
years  old.    I  have,  God  be  thanked!  enjoyed 
tranquillity,  and  freed  my  land  again  from  all 
debt.    My  father  died  in  1724,  in  the  hundred- 
and-fourth  year  of  his  age;  I  had  to  lead  him 
like  a  child,  and  he  lies  buried  at  Florenburg 
with  his  forefathers." 

Heinrich  Stilling  had  listened  with  the  great- 
est attention.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  God  be  thank- 
ed that  I  have  had  such  progenitors !  I  will 
write  them  all  down  neatly,  that  I  may  not  for- 


STIRLING'S 

get  them.  Ine  knights  call  their  forefathers  an- 
cestors ;  I  will  also  call  them  my  ancestors." 
His  grandfather  smiled,  and  was  silent. 

The  next  day  they  went  home  again,  and 
Heinrich  wrote  all  the  narratives  in  an  old  wri- 
ting-book, which  he  reversed,  and  filled  the 
white  leaves  at  the  end  with  the  account  of  his 
ancestors. 

My  tears  burst  forth  whilst  writing  this. 
Whither  are  ye  fled,  ye  happy  hours  t  Why 
does  the  remembrance  of  you  alone  remain  to 
man  %  What  fulness  of  supernal  pleasure  does 
the  susceptible  spirit  of  youth  enjoy  !  There  is 
no  meanness  of  rank  if  the  soul  be  ennobled. 
Ye,  my  tears,  pressed  forth  by  my  laboring  spir- 
it, say  to  every  well-disposed  heart,  say  without 
words,  what  that  individual  is,  who  is  acquaint- 
ed with  God  his  Father,  and  tastes  all  his  gifts 
in  their  greatness ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Heinrich  Stilling  was  the  hope  and  the  joy 
of  his  family;  for  although  Johann  Stilling  had 
an  elder  son,  no  one  took  any  particular  notice 
of  him.  He  often  came  to  visit  his  grandpa- 
rents ;  but  as  he  came  so  he  went  away  again — 
a  strange  circumstance ! — and  yet  Eberhard  Still- 
ing was  really  not  partial.  But  why  do  I  linger 
at  this  1  Who  can  prevent  one  person  from  be- 
ing loved  more  than  another  1  Mr.  Stollbein 
saw  clearly  that  this  boy  would  become  some- 
thing, if  people  only  made  something  of  him ; 
and  hence  it  was.  that  on  one  occasion,  when  he 
was  in  Stilling's  house,  he  spoke  of  the  boy  to 
his  father  and  grandfather,  and  proposed  to  them 
that  Wilhelm  should  let  him  learn  Latin.  "  We 
have  a  good  Latin  schoolmaster,"  said  he,  "at 
Florenburg;  send  him  thither;  it  will  cost,  lit- 
tle." Old  Stilling  sat  at  the  table,  chewing  a 
chip,  for  such  was  his  custom  when  he  reflected 
on  matters  of  importance.  Wilhelm  laid  his 
iron  thimble  on  the  table,  folded  his  arms  to- 
gether on  his  breast,  and  reflected  also.  Marga- 
ret laid  her  arms  in  her  lap,  twisted  her  thumbs 
over  each  other,  looked  wistfully  occasional- 
ly towards  the  room-door,  and  considered  too. 
But  Heinrich  sat  with  his  cloth-pieced  cap  in 
his  hand,  in  a  little  chair,  and  did  not  reflect, 
but  only  wished.  Stollbein  sat  in  his  arm-chair, 
one  hand  upon  the  head  of  his  cane,  and  the  oth- 
er on  his  side,  and  waited  the  result  of  the  mat- 
ter. They  were  long  silent:  at  length  the  old 
man  said,  "Now,  Wilhelm,  he  is  thy  child; 
what  thinkest  thouT' 

Wilhelm. — "Father,  I  know  not  how  to  bear 
the  expense." 

Stilling. — "  Is  it  that  causes  thee  the  most 
anxiety,  Wilhelm  1  Be  only  careful,  if  the  boy 
learns  Latin,  that  he  may  cause  thee  joy." 

"  What  joy  are  you  talking  of?"  said- the  cler- 
gyman ;  "  the  question  is,  whether  you  are  will- 
ing to  make  something  of  the  boy  or  not.  If  any 
thing  proper  is  to  be  made  of  him,  he  must  learn 
Latin,  otherwise  he  will  remain  a  lubber,  like — " 

"  Like  his  parents,"  said  old  Stilling. 

"  I  believe  you  mean  to  banter  me,"  rejoined 
the  preacher. 

"  No,  God  forbid !"  replied  Eberhard ;  "  do  not 
take  it  amiss;  for  your  father  was  a  woollen- 
weaver,  and  was  unacquainted  with  Latin ;  yet 
the  people  say  he  was  a  worthy  man,  although  I 
never  bought  cloth  of  him.  Hear  me,  dear  sir  ! 
—an  honest  man  loves  God  and  his  neighbour ; 


CHILDHOOD.  19 

he  does  that  which  is  right,  and  fears  no  one ; 
he  is  diligent,  and  provides  tor  himself  and  his 
family,  that  they  may  have  bread  enough.  Why 
does  he  do  all  this?' 

Stollbein. — "  I  really  believe  you  want  to  cate- 
chise me,  Stilling!  Be  respectful,  and  remem- 
ber whom  you  are  speaking  to.  He  does  it,  be- 
cause it  is  just  and  right  that  he  do  it." 

Stilling. — "  Do  not  be  angry  if  1  contradict  you 
— he  does  it  that  he  may  have  joy,  both  here  and 
hereafter." 

Stollbein. — "  How  so  1  He  ma)',  notwithstand- 
ing, go  to  hell." 

Stilling. — "With  the  love  of  God  and  his 
neighbour  1" 

Stollbein— 11  Yes,  certainly !— if  he  has  not  true 
faith  in  Christ." 

Stilling. — "But  it  follows  of  course,  that  we 
cannot  love  God  and  our  neighbour,  if  we  do  not 
believe  in  God  and  his  word.  But  tell  us,  Wil- 
helm, what  dost  thou  think  V 

Wilhelm. — "  Methin ks  if  I  knew  how  to  bear 
the  expense,  I  would  take  care  the  boy  should  not 
become  too  much  of  a  Latin  scholar.  During 
the  leisure  days,  he  shall  be  employed  in  making 
camel-hair  buttons,  and  help  me  at  the  needle, 
until  we  see  what  God  will  make  of  him." 

"  That  does  not  displease  me,  Wilhelm,"  said 
father  Stilling ;  "  it  is  my  advice  also.  The  boy 
possesses  unheard-of  abilities  for  learning;  God 
has  not  given  him  such  a  head  in  vain ;  let  him 
learn  what  he  is  able  and  willing  to  learn ;  give 
him  occasionally  time  for  this  purpose — but  not 
too-  much,  otherwise  he  will  grow  idle,  and  not 
read  so  diligently ;  but  after  he  has  laboured 
well  at  the  needle,  and  is  truly  hungering  after 
his  books,  let  him  read  an  hour ;  that  is  enough. 
Only  let  him  learn  a  trade  properly,  and  then  he 
will*  be  able  to  earn  his  bread  till  he  can  make 
use  of  his  Latin,  and  become  a  gentleman." 

"  Hum  !  hum  ! — a  gentleman  !"  growled  Stoll- 
bein ;  "he  shall  be  no  gentleman,  but  a  village 
schoolmaster,  and  then  it  is  good  to  know  a  lit- 
tle Latin.  But  you  peasants  suppose  it  such  an 
easy  matter  to  beeome  a  gentleman.  You  plant 
ambition  in  the  children's  hearts,  which  never- 
theless proceeds  from  its  father  the  devil." 

Old  Stilling's  large  bright  eyes  sparkled;  he 
stood  there  like  a  little  giant  (for  he  was  a  tall, 
good-looking  man),  shook  his  white  head,  smiled, 
and  said,  "What  is  ambition,  your  reverence  V 

Stollbein  sprang  up,  and  exclaimed,  "  What ! 
another  question !  I  am  not  bound  to  answer 
you,  but  you  me.  Attend  to  my  sermons ;  you 
will  there  hear  what  ambition  is.  I  know  not 
how  it  is  you  grow  so  proud,  Churchwarden ! — 
you  were  formerly  a  modest  kind  of  a  man." 

Stilling.— "  As  you  take  it,  proud  or  not  proud, 
I  am  a  man  that  has  loved  God  and  served  him ; 
given  every  one  wrhat  belonged  to  him;  brought 
up  my  children,  and  been  faithful.  God,  I  know, 
will  forgive  me  my  sins.  I  am  now  old — my 
end  is  near.  Although  I  am  in  good  health,  stiil 
I  must  die;  and  I  rejoice  at  the  thought  of  soon 
leaving  this  M7orld.  Let  me  be  proud  of  dying 
like  an  honest  man  in  the  midst  of  his  grown-up 
and  pious  children,  whom  he  has  brought  up. 
But  when  I  think  of  it,  I  am  more  active  than  I 
was  when  Margaret  and  I  married." 

"People  don't  enter  heaven  as  if  in  shoes  and 
stockings,"  said  the  clergyman. 

"My  grandfather  will  pull  them  off  before  he 
dies,"  said  little  Heinrich. 

Every  one  laughed;  even  Stollbein  was  obli- 
ged to  smile. 


20  HEINRICH 

Margaret  put  an  end  to  the  consultation.  She 
proposed  to  give  the  boy  enough  to  eat  in  the 
morning,  and  a  sandwich  lor  dinner  in  his  pock- 
et; whilst  in  the  evening  he  could  eat  again  as 
much  as  he  pleased;  "And  so  the  boy  can  go 
to-morrow  to  the  school  at  Florenburg,"  said  she, 
"  and  return  in  the  evening.  The  summer  is  at 
hand,  and  in  winter  we  will  see  what  is  to  be  done." 

Thus  the  matter  was  concluded,  and  Stollbein 
went  home  again. 


A  great  change  took  place,  at  this  period,  in 
Sailing's  house ;  the  eldest  daughters  married 
out  of  the  house  ;  and  thus  Eberhard  and  his 
Margaret,  Wilhelm,  Maria,  and  Heinrich,  con- 
stituted the  whole  family.  Eberhard  now  also 
determined  to  give  up  burning  charcoal,  and  at- 
tend merely  to  his  farm. 

The  mastership  of  the  village-school  at  Tie- 
fenbach became  vacant,  and  all  the  peasantry 
had  Wilhelm  Stilling  in  view,  to  choose  him  for 
their  schoolmaster.  The  place  was  offered  him ; 
he  accepted  it  without  reluctance,  although  he 
was  inwardly  concerned  at  forsaking,  with  so 
little  reflection,  his  solitary  and  holy  life,  and 
again  associating  with  mankind.  But  the  good 
man  did  not  perceive  that  it  was  merely  the 
grief  he  felt  at  the  death  of  Doris,  that  suffered 
no  rival  feeling,  which  had  made  him  a  hermit; 
and  that,  as  this  became  more  supportable,  he 
was  again  able  to  mix  in  society,  and  could 
again  take  pleasure  in  being  employed.  He 
explained  it  to  himself  very  differently.  He  be- 
lieved that  the  holy  impulse  above  mentioned  be- 
gan to  abate  in  him,  and  he  therefore  accepted 
the  situation  with  fear  and  trembling.  He  filled 
it  with  zeal  and  fidelity,  and  began  at  length  to 
suppose  that  it  might  not  be  displeasing  to  God 
if  he  put  out  his  talent  to  usury,  and  sought  to 
serve  his  neighbour. 

Heinrich,  therefore,  now  began  to  go  to  the 
Latin  school.  It  may  easily  be  imagined  what 
attention  he  excited  among  the  other  school- 
boys. He  was  known  merely  in  Stilling's  house 
and  garden,  and  had  never  been  among  other 
children.  His  speeches  were  always  uncom- 
mon, and  few  persons  understood  what  he  meant. 
No  youthful  games,  of  which  boys  are  generally 
so  fond,  affected  him;  he  passed  by,  and  saw 
them  not.  Wieland,  the  schoolmaster,  remark- 
ed his  abilities  and  his  great  diligence ;  he  there- 
fore avoided  troubling  him ;  and  as  he  perceived 
that  he  was  unable  to  follow  the  tedious  method 
of  committing  long  lessons  to  memory,  he  dis- 
pensed with  it;  and  really,  Heinrich's  plan  of 
learning  Latin  was  very  advantageous  to  him. 
He  placed  the  Latin  text  before  him,  looked  for 
the  words  in  the  lexicon,  found  there  what  part 
of  speech  each  word  was,  then  looked  at  the  ta- 
ble of  exceptions  in  the  grammar,  &c.  By  this 
method,  his  spirit  found  food  in  the  best  Latin 
authors,  and  he  learned  to  write,  read,  and  un- 
derstand the  language  sufficiently.  But  what 
caused  him  the  greatest  pleasure  was  a  little 
library  of  the  schoolmaster's  which  he  had  per- 
mission to  use.  It  consisted  of  all  kinds  of  use- 
ful Cologne  works,  particularly  Reynard  the  fox, 
with  excellent  wooden  cuts;  the  Emperor  Octa- 
vian  with  his  wife  and  sons  ;  a  beautiful  history 
of  the  four  children  of  Haymon;  Peter  and 
Magelone;  the  fair  Melusina,  and  lastly,  the 
excellent  Hanns  dauert:  As  soon  as  the  school 
was  over  in  the  afternoon,  he  set  out  on  the  road 
to  Tiefenbach,  and  read  one  of  these  histories 
upon  the  way.  The  path  led  through  green 
meadows,  woods,  and  bushes,  up  and  down  hill; 


STILLING. 

and  the  natural  scenery  around  him  made  a  pro- 
found and  solemn  impression  on  his  free  and 
open  heart.  In  the  evening,  the  five  good  peo- 
ple met  together  again,  supped,  poured  out  their 
souls  to  each  other,  and  Heinrich,  in  particular, 
related  his  histories,  with  which  all,  not  except- 
ing Margaret,  were  uncommonly  delighted. 
Even  the  grave  and  pietistic  Wilhelm  took 
pleasure  in  them,  and  read  them  himself  on  a 
Sunday  afternoon,  when  making  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  old  castle.  Heinrich,  on  such  occasions, 
always  looked  at  the  place  where  he  was  read- 
ing; and  whenever  an  affecting  passage  occur- 
red, he  rejoiced  in  himself,  but  when  he  saw  that 
his  father  also  was  affected  by  it,  his  joy  was 
complete. 

Meanwhile  young  Stilling  proceeded  rapidly 
in  learning  the  Latin  language — at  least,  the 
reading  and  understanding  Latin  histories,  and 
the  speaking  and  writing  Latin.  Whether  that 
is  enough,  or  whether  more  is  required,  I  know 
not;  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein,  at  least,  demanded 
more.  After  Heinrich  had  gone  for  about  a  year 
to  the  Latin  school,  it  once  occurred  to  the  above- 
mentioned  gentleman  to  examine  our  young  stu- 
dent. From  his  room-window,  he  saw  him 
standing  before  the  school;  he  whistled,  and 
Heinrich  flew  to  him. 

Stollbein.— ■"  Art  thou  diligent  in  learning'?" 

Heinrich. — "Yes,  your  reverence." 

Stollbein. — "How  many  verba  anomala  are 
there!" 

Heinrich. — "I  do  not  know." 

Stollbein.— "  What,  dost  thou  not  know  that, 
thou  clown  1  I  had  almost  given  thee  a  box  on 
the  ear.    Sum,  possum,  now — what  further  1" 

Heinrich. — "  I  have  not  learned  that." 

Stollbein. — "  Ho  !  Madalene !— call  the  school- 
master." 

The  schoolmaster  came. 

Stollbein.—'1  What  do  you  teach  the  boy  V 

The  schoolmaster  stood  at  the  door,  with  his 
hat  under  his  arm,  and  said,  humbly,  "Latin." 

Stollbein. — "  There,  you  good-for-nothing  ! — 
he  does  not  even  know  how  many  verba  anomala 
there  are." 

Schoolmaster.  —  "  Knowest  thou  not,  Hein- 
rich r 

"  No,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  know  not." 

The  schoolmaster  continued, 11  Nolo  and  malo, 
what  kind  of  words  are  they?' 

Heinrich. — "  They  are  verba  anomala,1' 

Schoolmaster. — "  Fero  and  volo,  what  are  they  f 

Heinrich. — "  Verba  anomala." 

"  Now,  your  reverence,"  continued  the  school- 
master, "the  boy  knows  all  the  words  in  this 
manner." 

Stollbein  replied,  "But  he  must  commit  all 
the  rules  to  memory  ;  go  home — I'll  have  it  so." 

Bath.-— "Yes,  your  reverence!" 

From  that  time  Heinrich  also  learned  with 
little  trouble  all  the  rules  by  memory,  but  he 
soon  forgot  them  again.  This  appeared  as  though 
it  would  be  peculiar  to  him ;  his  genius  soared 
above  what  was  not  easily  overcome.  But 
enough  of  Stilling's  learning  Latin:  we  will 
proceed  further. 

Old  Stilling  now  began  to  lay  aside  his  pater- 
nal seriousness,  and  to  be  more  tender  towards 
his  few  remaining  inmates.  In  particular,  he 
kept  Heinrich,  who  was  now  eleven  vears  old, 
much  away  from  school,  and  took  him  with  him 
when  he  went  to  his  labour  in  the  fields;  spoke 
much  with  him  upon  man's  integrity  in  the 
world,  and  particularly  of  his  conduct  toward* 
God;  recommended  good  books  to  him,  esne- 


S  T  I  L  L  I  N  GS 


CHILDHOOD. 


21 


cially  the  reading  of  the  Bible,  and  afterwards 
also  "what  Dr.  Luther,  Calvin,  CEcolampadius, 
and  Bucer  have  written.  One  morning  early, 
Father  Stilling,  Maria,  and  Heinrich,  went  into 
the  forest,  in  order  to  procure  fire- wood.  Mar- 
garet had  put  a  good  mess  of  milk,  with  bread- 
and-butter,  into  a  basket  for  them,  which  Maria 
carried  upon  her  head ;  she  ascended  the  forest 
first;  Heinrich  followed,  and  related  with  great 
hilarity  the  history  of  the  four  children  of  Hay- 
mon  ;  and  Father  Stilling,  supporting  himself 
on  his  hatchet,  according  to  his  custom,  stalked 
laboriously  aller  them,  and  listened  attentively. 
They  came  at  length  to  a  remote  part  of  the  for- 
est, where  there  was  a  verdant  plain,  at  the  end 
of  which  was  a  beautiful  spring.  "  Let  us  stop 
here,"  said  Father  Stilling,  and  sat  down;  Ma- 
ria took  down  her  basket,  placed  it  on  the  ground, 
and  sat  down  also.  But  Heinrich  again  saw, 
in  his  soul,  the  Egyptian  desert  before  him,  in 
which  he  would  gladly  have  become  a  St.  An- 
thony;  soon  after,  he  saw  before  him  the  fountain 
of  Melusina,  and  wished  that  he  were  Raymond ; 
both  ideas  then  united  themselves,  and  resulted  in 
a  pious  romantic  feeling,  which  enabled  him  to 
taste  all  that  which  was  good  and  beautiful  in 
this  solitary  region  with  the  highest  pleasure. 
Father  Stilling  at  length  arose,  and  said, 
"  Children,  stay  here :  I  will  go  about  a  little, 
and  collect  fallen  wood;  I  will  occasionally  call 
out,  and  you  must  answer  me,  lest  I  lose  you." 
He  then  went  his  way. 

Meanwhile  Maria  and  Heinrich  sat  together 
very  sociably.  "Tell  me,  aunt,  once  more," 
said  Heinrich,  "  the  tale  of  Joringel  and  Jorinde." 
Maria  complied. 

"  There  was  once  an  old  castle  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  and  gloomy  forest.  An  old  woman 
lived  in  it  quite  alone ;  she  was  an  arch-enchant- 
ress. In  the  day-time  she  made  herself  into  a 
cat,  or  a  hare,  or  an  owl ;  but  in  the  evening,  she 
was  again  regularly  formed  like  a  human  being. 
She  could  entice  game  and  birds  to  her,  which 
she  afterwards  killed,  and  boiled  or  roasted.  If 
any  one  came  within  a  hundred  paces  of  the 
castle,  he  was  compelled  to  stand  still,  and  could 
not  move  from  the  place,  until  she  set  him  free ; 
but  when  a  pure  chaste  virgin  entered  the  circle, 
she  transformed  her  into  a  bird,  and  shut  it  up 
in  a  cage  in  the  rooms  of  the  castle.  She  had 
about  seven  thousand  such  cages  with  such  rare 
birds  in  the  castle. 

"Now  there  was  once  a  maiden,  whose  name 
was  Jorinde ;  she  was  more  beautiful  than  all 
other  maidens,  and  had  promised  herself  in  mar- 
riage to  a  very  handsome  youth  of  the  name  of 
Joringel.  They  were  on  the  eve  of  their  nup- 
tials, and  took  the  greatest  delight  in  each  other's 
company.  In  order  that  they  might  converse 
confidently  together,  they  took  a  walk  into  the 
wood.  '  Beware,'  said  Joringel,  1  that  thou  dost 
not  come  too  near  the  castle !'  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful evening;  the  sun  shone  bright  between  the 
trunks  of  the  trees,  into  the  dark  verdure  of  the 
forest,  and  the  turtle-dove  sung  mournfully  upon 
the  old  beech-trees.  Jorinde  wept  occasionally, 
placed  herself  in  the  sunshine,  and  complained. 
Joringel  complained  also;  they  were  as  confu- 
sed as  if  they  had  been  near  death ;  they  looked 
about,  were  at  a  loss,  and  knew  not  which  way 
to  return  home.  The  sun  still  stood  half  above 
the  hill,  and  was  half-set.  Joringel  looked 
through  the  bushes,  and  saw  the  old  walls  of 
the  castle  near  him ;  he  was  terrified,  and  be- 
came deadly  afraid;  Jorinde  sung: 


'  My  little  bird  with  the  ring  so  red, 

Sing  lida,  lida,  lida  ; 
The  turtle-dove  mourns  before  it  is  dead, 

Sing  lida,  li — Zickcut !  Zickeut !  Zickeut !' 

"  Joringel  looked  at  Jorinde.  Jorinde  was 
changed  into  a  nightingale,  which  sung  Zick- 
eut !  Zickeut !  An  owl,  with  glaring  eyes,  flew 
three  times  round  them,  and  cried  three  times, 
'  Shoo-hoo — hoo-hoo !'  Joringel  could  not  move ; 
he  stood  there  like  a  stone;  he  could  neither 
weep,  nor  speak,  nor  lift  hand  or  foot.  The  sun 
was  now  set;  the  owl  flew  into  a  bush,  and  im- 
mediately afterwards,  an  old  crooked  woman 
came  out  of  the  bush,  yellow  and  meagre,  with 
large  red  eyes,  and  a  crooked  nose,  the  point  of 
which  reached  to  her  chin.  She  muttered,  and 
caught  the  nightingale,  and  bore  it  away  in  her 
hand.  Joringel  could  not  utter  a  word,  nor 
move  from  the  place.  The  nightingale  was 
gone;  at  length  the  woman  came  again,  and 
said,  with  a  hollow  voice,  'Greet  thee,  Zachieli 
when  the  moon  shines  into  the  cage,  let  loose, 
Zachiel,  at  the  proper  hour !'  Joringel  was  then 
at  liberty:  he  fell  down  on  his  knees  before  the 
woman,  and  besought  her  to  give  him  his  Jo- 
rinde again;  but  she  said  he  should  never  have 
her  again,  and  went  away.  He  called,  he  wept, 
he  mourned,  but  all  in  vain.  Well,  what  hap- 
pened 1  Joringel  went  away,  and  came  at  length 
into  a  strange  village;  he  there  kept  sheep  a 
long  time.  He  often  went  about  the  castle  at 
night,  but  not  too  near;  at  length  he  dreamed, 
one  night,  that  he  found  a  blood-red  flower,  in 
the  midst  of  which  was  a  beautiful  large  pearl ; 
that  he  broke  off  the  flower,  went  with  it  to  the 
castle,  and  all  that  he  touched  with  the  flower 
became  free  from  enchantment ;  he  also  dreamed 
that  by  this  means  he  recovered  his  dear  Jorin- 
de. In  the  morning  Avhen  he  awoke,  he  began 
to  search  through  hill  and  dale,  in  order  to  find 
such  a  flower;  he  sought  until  the  ninth  day, 
when  he  found  the  blood-red  flower,  early  in  the 
morning.  In  the  midst  was  a  large  dew-drop, 
as  large  as  the  finest  pearl.  He  carried  this 
flower  with  him,  day  and  night,  till  he  arrived 
at  the  castle.  Well !  what  thinkest  thou  1  When 
he  came  within  a  hundred  paces  of  the  castle,  he 
did  not  stick  fast,  but  went  on  to  the  gate.  Jo- 
ringel was  highly  rejoiced;  he  touched  the  gate 
with  the  flower,  and  it  sprang  open ;  he  went  in, 
across  the  court,  and  listened  if  he  could  hear 
where  the  many  birds  were  singing.  At  length 
he  heard  them,  and  went  on  till  he  found  the 
chamber;  the  enchantress  was  there,  feeding  the 
birds  in  the  seven  thousand  cages.  When  she 
saw  Joringel  she  was  angry,  very  angry ;  scold- 
ed, spat  forth  venom  and  gall  against  him,  but 
could  not  come  within  two  paces  of  him.  He 
did  not  trouble  himself  about  her,  but  went  and 
looked  at  the  cages  with  the  birds.  There  were, 
however,  many  hundred  nightingales,  and  how 
was  he  to  find  his  Jorinde  amongst  theml 
Whilst  thus  viewing  them,  he  perceived  that  the 
old  woman  privately  took  a  cage  with  a  bird  in  it, 
and  went  with  it  towards  the  door.  He  imme- 
diately sprang  thither,  touched  the  cage  with  the 
flower,  and  also  the  old  woman.  She  could  now 
enchant  no  longer;  and  Jorinde,  who  stood  be- 
fore him,  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  as 
beautiful  as  she  had  ever  been.  He  then  also 
restored  all  the  other  birds  to  their  original  form, 
went  home  with  his  Jorinde,  and  they  lived  long 
and  happily  together." 

Heinrich  sat  as  if  petrified — his  eyes  fixed  and 
his  mouth  half  open.    "Aunt!"  said  he,  at 


22  HEINRICH 

length,  "it  is  enough  to  make  one  afraid  in  the 
night!"  "Yes,"  said  she;  "I  do  not  tell  these 
tales  at  night,  otherwise  I  should  be  afraid  my- 
self." Whilst  they  sat  thus,  Father  Stilling 
whistled.  Maria  and  Heinrich  called  out  in  re- 
ply. He  came  not  long  after,  looked  cheerful 
and  pleasant,  as  if  he  had  found  something, 
smiled  also  occasionally,  stood,  shook  his  head, 
looked  fixedly  at  one  particular  spot,  folded  his 
hands,  and  smiled  again.  Maria  and  Heinrich 
looked  at  him  with  astonishment,  yet  they  did 
not  venture  to  ask  him  about  it;  for  he  often  did 
as  though  he  laughed  to  himself.  Stilling's 
heart  was  however  too  full;  he  sat  down  by 
them,  and  related  as  follows :  when  he  began, 
his  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  Maria  and  Hein- 
rich saw  it,  and  their  tears  already  overflowed. 

"  On  leaving  you  to  go  into  the  wood,  I  saw 
at  a  distance  before  me,  a  light,  just  as  when  the 
sun  rises  in  the  morning,  and  was  much  surpri- 
sed. 'What  is  thatT  thought  I;  'the  sun  is  al- 
ready standing  in  the  heavens — is  it  a  new  sun  1 
It  must  be  something  strange :  I  will  go  and  see 
it.'  I  went  towards  it;  as  I  approached,  there 
was  before  me  a  large  plain,  the  extent  of  which 
I  could  not  overlook.  I  had  never  seen  any  thing 
so  glorious  in  all  my  life ! — such  a  fine  perfume, 
and  such  a  cool  air  proceeded  from  it,  as  I  can- 
not express.  The  whole  region  was  white  with 
the  light — the  day  with  the  sun  is  night  compared 
to  it.  There  stood  there  many  thousand  beauti- 
ful castles,  one  near  another — castles !  I  cannot 
describe  them  to  you !  as  if  they  were  made  of 
silver.  There  were  also  gardens,  bushes,  brooks. 

0  God,  how  beautiful !  Not  far  from  me  stood  a 
large  and  glorious  mansion  (the  tears  here 
flowed  abundantly  down  the  good  Stilling's 
cheeks,  as  well  as  those  of  Maria  and  Heinrich). 
Some  one  came  towards  me  out  of  the  door  of 
this  mansion,  like  a  virgin.  Ah !  a  glorious 
angel !  When  she  was  close  to  me,  I  saw  .it 
was  our  departed  Doris !  (All  three  now  sob- 
bed ;  neither  of  them  could  speak,  except  Hein- 
rich, who  wept,  and  exclaimed,  '  O  my  mother, 
my  dear  mother!')  She  said  to  me,  in  such  a 
friendly  manner,  with  the  very  look  which  for- 
merly so  offm  stole  my  heart, '  Father,  yonder  is 
our  eternal  habitation;  you  will  soon  come  to  us? 

1  looked,  but  all  was  fo'rest  before  me;  the  glo- 
rious vision  had  departed.  Children,  I  shall  die 
soon — how  glad  am  I  at  the  thought!"  Hein- 
rich could  not  cease  asking  how  his  mother 
looked,  what  she  had  on,  and  such  like.  All 
three  pursued  their  labor  during  the  day,  and 
spoke  continually  of  this  occurrence.  But  old 
Stilling  was  from  that  time  like  one  who  is  in  a 
strange  land  and  not  at  home. 

It  was  an  ancient  custom,  which,  like  many 
others,  I  have  not  yet  mentioned,  that  Father 
Stilling  should,  with  his  own  hands,  cover  every 
year  a  part  of  his  straw-thatched  cottage.  He 
had  done  this  for  forty-eight  years,  and  it  was  to 
be  done  again  that  summer.  He  arranged  it  so, 
that  he  covered  it  anew  every  year,  as  far  as  the 
rye-straw  served  which  he  had  grown  that  year. 

The  time  of  thatching  fell  towards  Michael- 
mas-day, and  was  rapidly  approaching,  so  that 
Father  Stilling  began  to  prepare  for  the  work. 
Heinrich  was  appointed  to  hand  him  the  straw, 
and  therefore  his  going  to  school  was  postponed 
for  a  week.  Margaret  and  Maria  daily  held  a 
secret  council  in  the  kitchen,  respecting  the  fit- 
test means  of  restraining  him  from  thatching. 
Both  at  length  resolved  to  represent  the  matter 
to  him  seriously,  and  to  warn  him  of  the  danger. 


STIL  LI  NC. 

They  appointed  the  time  during  dinner  for  the 
purpose. 

Margaret  therefore  brought  up  a  dish  of  vege- 
tables, on  which  were  four  pieces  of  meat,  which 
were  laid  so  that  each  of  them  stood  just  before 
the  person  they  were  destined  for.  Behind  her 
came  Maria,  with  a  jug  full  of  milk  and  crum- 
bled bread.  Both  placed  their  dishes  on  the 
table,  at  which  Father  Stilling  and  Heinrich 
already  sat  in  their  places,  and  spoke,  with  an  air 
of  importance,  of  the  thatching  they  intended  to 
commence  on  the  morrow.  For,  to  speak  in 
confidence,  however  intent  Heinrich  might  be 
upon  his  studies,  sciences  and  books,  still  it  was 
a  much  greater  joy,  either  to  roam  about  the 
woods,  or  in  the  fields,  or  even  climb  upon  the 
roof  of  the  house  in  the  company  of  his  grand- 
father ;  for  this  was  now  the  third  year  in  which 
he  had  assisted  his  grandfather  as  deacon  at  this 
yearly  solemnity.  It  may  therefore  be  easily 
supposed,  that  the  boy  was  heartily  vexed  when 
he  began  to  comprehend  Margaret  and  Maria's 
intention. 

"  I  know  not,  Eberhard,"  said  Margaret,  whilst 
laying  her  left  hand  upon  his  shoulder;  "thou 
seemest  to  me  to  fall  away  so.  Dost  thou  not 
feel  any  thing  of  it  in  thy  constitution  V 

Stilling. — "  One  grows  older  every  day,  Mar- 
garet." 

Margaret. — "  O  yes  !  certainly,  old  and  stiff." 

"  That's  true,"  rejoined  Maria,  and  sighed. 

"  My  grandfather  is  still  very  strong  for  his 
age,"  said  Heinrich. 

"  That  I  am,  lad,"  answered  the  old  man.  "  I 
would  still  run  up  the  ladder  with  thee  for  a  wa- 
ger." 

Heinrich  laughed  aloud :  Margaret  soon  saw 
that  she  could  not  carry  the  fortress  on  that  side; 
she  therefore  sought  another  way. 

"  O  yes,"  said  she,  "  it  is  a  peculiar  favour  to 
be  so  well  in  one's  old  age ;  thou  hast  never  been 
sick,  I  believe,  in  thy  life,  Ebert  1" 

Stilling. — "  Never  in  my  life  ;  I  know  not  what 
sickness  is ;  for  I  went  about  when  I  had  the 
small-pox  and  measles." 

"  Yet  I  believe,  father,"  rejoined  Maria,  "  that 
you  have  been  ill  several  times  from  falling;  for 
you  have  sometimes  told  us  that  you  have  often 
had  dangerous  falls." 

Stilling. — "  Yes,  I  have  had  three  mortal  falls." 

"  And  the  fourth  time  thou  wilt  fall  down," 
said  Margaret;  "  I  forbode  it.  Thou  hast  lately 
seen  a  vision  in  the  wood ;  and  a  little  while 
ago,  a  neighbour  warned  and  begged  of  me  not 
to  let  thee  go  upon  the  roof:  for  she  said  that,  in 
the  evenings,  when  she  milked  the  cows,  she  had 
heard  a  noise  and  a  piteous  lamentation  near 
our  house  in  the  road.  I  beg  of  thee,  Ebert,  do 
me  the  pleasure,  and  let  some  one  else  thatch 
the  house  ;  thou  dost  not  need  to  do  it." 

Stilling. — "  Margaret,  may  not  I,  or  any  one 
else,  meet  with  some  other  misfortune  on  the 
road  1  I  have  seen  a  vision,  it  is  true  ;  and  our 
neighbour  may  have  had  such  a  foreboding. 
Now  if  this  is  certain,  who  can  escape  what 
God  has  ordained  concerning  him'?  If  he  has 
determined  that  I  should  end  my  course  in  the 
road  here,  shall  I,  a  poor  stupid  mortal,  be  able 
to  avoid  if?  And  if  I  am  to  fall  down  dead, 
how  shall  I  be  able  to  preserve  myself?  Sup- 
posing I  do  not  go  upon  the  roof,  may  not  I,  to- 
day or  to-morrow,  ascend  a  cartload  of  wood  in 
the  road,  in  order  to  unload  it,  stumble,  and 
break  my  neck  1  Margaret,  let  me  alone  !  I 
will  go  on  just  as  I  have  hitherto  done,  and  if 
my  hour  comes  suddenly,  I  will  call  it  welcome." 


STILLING'S 

Margaret  and  Maria  added  still  something 
more;  but  he  heeded  it  not,  and  spoke,  on  the 
contrary,  with  Heinrich,  on  a  variety  of  things 
regarding  the  thatching;  they  were  therefore 
obliged  to  be  content,  and  attempted  the  thing 
no  more. 

The  next  morning  they  rose  early,  and  old 
Stilling  began,  whilst  singing  a  morning  hymn, 
to  loosen  and  throw  down  the  old  straw,  which 
he  easily  accomplished  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
so  that  the  next  day  they  were  able  to  commence 
covering  the  roof  with  new  straw;  in  short,  the 
roof  was  finished  without  experiencing  the  slight- 
est danger  or  affright ;  only  it  was  necessary  to 
ascend  it  once  more,  in  order  to  place  strong 
fresh  sods  along  the  ridge.  Old  Stilling,  how- 
ever, was  in  no  hurry  with  this ;  a  week  some- 
times passed  over  before  it  occurred  to  him  to 
perform  this  last  pari  of  his  labor. 

The  next  Wednesday  morning,  Eberhard  rose 
uncommonly  early,  and  went  about  in  the  house, 
from  one  room  to  another,  as  if  he  were  seeking 
something.  His  family  were  surprised,  and 
asked  him  what  he  sought  1  "Nothing,"  said 
he ;  "I  know  not.  I  am  very  well,  and  yet  I 
have  no  rest;  I  cannot  be  still  any  where,  just 
as  if  there  was  something  in  me  that  impelled 
me ;  I  also  feel  an  apprehension  of  which  I  know 
not  the  reason."  Margaret  advised  him  to  dress 
himself,  and  afterwards  to  go  with  Heinrich  to 
Lichthausen  to  visit  his  son  Johann.  He  assent- 
ed, but  wished  first  to  lay  the  sods  upon  the  ridge 
of  the  house,  and  visit  his  son  the  day  following. 
His  wife  and  daughter  were  both  opposed  to 
this  idea.  At  dinner,  they  seriously  warned 
him  not  to  go  upon  the  roof;  even  Heinrich 
begged  him  to  hire  some  one  to  complete  the 
thatching.  But  the  worthy  old  man  smiled  with 
an  unlimited  influence  on  those  around  him — a 
smile  which  had  won  so  many  a  heart,  and  im- 
pressed it  with  reverence,  although  at  the  same 
time  he  did  not  say  a  word.  A  man  who  has 
grown  old  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  good  conscience, 
with  the  consciousness  of  many  good  actions, 
and  who  has  accustomed  himself  to  a  free  inter- 
course with  God  and  his  Redeemer,  acquires  a 
greatness  and  a  freedom  which  the  greatest  con- 
queror never  attained.  The  whole  of  Stilling's 
answer  to  this  well-meant  warning  of  his  fam- 
ily consisted  in  this. — That  he  would  ascend  the 
cherry-tree,  and  once  more  eat  his  full  of  cher- 
ries; for  there  was  a  tree  which  stood  in  the 
orchard  behind,  which  bore  fruit  very  late,  but 
so  much  the  more  excellent  in  quality.  His 
wife  and  daughter  were  amazed  at  this  propo- 
sal, for  he  had  not  been  in  a  tree  for  the  last  ten 
years.  "Now  then,"  said  Margaret,  "for  this 
time  thou  must  exalt  thyself,  let  it  cost  what  it 
will."  Eberhard  laughed,  and  replied,  "  The 
higher,  the  nearer  heaven."  With  this  he  went 
out  of  the  door,  and  Heinrich  after  him,  towards 
the  cherry-tree,  He  took  hold  of  the  tree  with 
his  arms  and  knees,  and  climbing  up  to  the  top, 
placed  himself  in  a  forked  branch  of  the  tree, 
and  began  to  eat  the  cherries,  occasionally  throw- 
ing down  a  twig  to  Heinrich.  Margaret  and 
Maria  came  likewise.  "  Hold  !"  said  the  hon- 
est woman;  "lift  me  up  a  little,  Maria,  that  I 
may  take  hold  of  th<?  lowest  boughs.  I  must  try 
whether  I  can  also  climb  up."  She  succeeded, 
and  got  up;  Stilling  looked  down,  and  laughed 
heartily,  and  said,  "  This  may  truly  be  called 
having  our  youth  renewed  like  the  eagle's." 
There  sat  the  two  honest  old  grey-heads  in  the 
branches  of  the  cherry-tree,  and  enjoyed 'once 


CHILDHOOD.  23 

more  together  the  sweet  fruits  of  their  youth; 
Stilling  was  particularly  cheerful.  Margaret 
descended  again,  and  went  with  Maria  to  the 
garden,  which  was  a  good  way  off,  down  the 
village.  An  hour  afterwards,  Stilling  also  de- 
scended ;  and  took  a  mattock  in  order  to  cut 
sods.  For  this  purpose,  he  went  to  the  end  of 
the  orchard,  near  to  the  wood.  Heinrich  re- 
mained opposite  the  house,  sitting  under  the 
cherry-tree.  Eberhard  came  at  length  again, 
carrying  a  large  piece  of  green  turf  on  his  head, 
and  bowed  to  Heinrich,  looking  very  grave,  and 
said,  "  See  what  a  night-cap."  Heinrich  start- 
ed, and  a  tremor  pervaded  his  whole  soul.  He 
has  subsequently  confessed  to  me,  that  this  made 
an  indelible  impression  upon  him. 

Father  Stilling,  meanwhile,  ascended  the  roof 
with  the  sods.  Heinrich  was  cutting  a  piece  of 
wood ;  and  whilst  thus  engaged,  he  heard  a 
noise  of  some  one  falling.  He  looked  towards 
the  place,  and  blackness  covered  his  eyes,  like 
the  night.  The  kind  and  dear  old  man  lay 
stretched  out  under  the  weight  of  the  ladders, 
his  hands  folded  upon  his  breast,  his  eyes  fixed, 
his  teeth  shaking,  and  all  his  limbs  trembling, 
like  a  person  in  a  severe  frost.  Heinrich  hasti- 
ly threw  the  ladders  off  him,  stretched  out  his 
arms,  and  ran  like  one  insane  down  the  village, 
filling  the  whole  valley  with  his  moaning  and 
lamentation.  Scarcely  had  Margaret  and  Ma- 
ria heard  in  the  garden  the  sorrowful  and  well- 
known  voice  of  their  dear  boy,  than  Maria  utter- 
ed a  deep  cry,  wrung  her  hands  above  her  head, 
and  flew  up  the  village.  Margaret  hastened 
after  her,  with  her  arms  extended,  her  eyes 
staring  wildly,  and  now  and  then  relieving  her 
oppressed  bosom  a  little  by  a  hoarse  shriek. 
Maria  and  Heinrich  were  the  first  with  the  good 
man.  He  lay  stretched  out  at  full  length,  his 
eyes  and  mouth  were  closed,  his  hands  folded 
upon  his  breast,  and  he  was  breathing  slowly 
and  strongly,  like  a  healthy  man  in  a  sound 
sleep ;  nor  was  it  any  where  perceptible  that  he 
had  lost  blood.  Maria  shed  many  tears  upon 
his  face,  and  moaned  continually,  "  Ah !  my 
father  !  my  father  !"  Heinrich  sat  at  his  feet  in 
the  dust,  sobbing  and  weeping.  Meanwhile 
Margaret  arrived  also ;  she  fell  down  beside  him 
on  her  knees,  took  her  husband  round  the  neck, 
and  called  into  his  ear  with  her  usual  tone  of 
voice  ;  but  he  made  no  sign.  The  intrepid  wom- 
an then  rose,  took  courage,  nor  had  a  tear  fallen 
from  her  eyes.  Some  of  the  neighbours  now 
came  to  them,  and  all  shed  tears,  for  he  was 
universally  beloved.  Margaret  quickly  made 
up  a  low  bed  in  the  room ;  she  spread  over  it 
her  best  sheets,  which  she  had  used,  some  forty 
years  before,  in  her  bridal  days.  She  then  came 
out,  quite  resigned,  and  exclaimed,  "  Bring  in 
my  Eberhard,  and  lay  him  upon  the  bed."  The 
men  took  hold  of  him,  Maria  held  his  head,  and 
Heinrich  had  both  his  feet  in  his  arms;  they  laid 
him  upon  the  bed,  and  Margaret  undressed  him 
and  covered  him  up.  He  lay  there,  just  like  a 
healthy  man  asleep.  Heinrich  was  now  order- 
ed to  run  to  Florenburgh,  to  fetch  a  surgeon. 
The  latter  came  the  same  evening,  examined 
him,  bled  him,  and  declared  that,  though  there 
was  no  fracture,  yet  his  death  would  certainly 
ensue  within  three  days,  there  being  a  complete 
concussion  of  the  brain. 

On  this,  Stilling's  six  children  were  ä*ll  sent 
for,  and  arrived  betimes  on  the  Thursday  morn- 
ing; they  all  sat  down  round  his  bed,  were  silent, 
mourned,  and  wept.    The  windows  were  hung 


24  HEINRICH 

with  cloth,  and  Margaret,  very  resignedly,  attend- 
ed to  her  household  affairs.  On  the  Friday  af- 
ternoon, the  sufferer's  head  began  to  move,  the 
upper  lip  lilted  itself  up  a  little,  and  became  of 
a  blueish  colour,  and  a  cold  sweat  burst  forth 
all  over.  His  children  all  approached  nearer 
the  bed.  Margaret  saw  it  also  ;  she  took  a  chair 
and  sat  backwards  near  the  wall  in  the  dark;  all 
looked  down  and  were  silent.  Heinrich  sat  at 
his  grandfather's  feet,  looked  at  him  occasion- 
ally, with  weeping  eyes,  and  was  silent  also. 
Thus  they  all  sat  till  nine  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing. Catherine  then  first  observed  that  her  father 
ceased  to  breathe. — She  called  out  piteously, 
"  My  father  is  dying  !"  All  fell  with  their  faces 
on  the  bed,  sobbing  and  weeping.  Heinrich 
stood  up,  took  his  grandfather  by  the  feet,  and 
wept  bitterly.  Father  Stilling  drew  his  breath 
deeply,  like  one  that  sighs  profoundly,  and  be- 
tween each  sigh  his  breath  ceased  entirely;  no- 
thing moved  in  his  whole  body,  except  the  under 
jaw,  which  projected  forward  a  little  at  every 
sigh. 

Margaret  Stilling,  with  all  her  grief,  had  not 
yet  wept;  but,  as  soon  as  she  heard  Catherine's 
exclamation,  she  rose  up,  went  to  the  bed,  and 
looked  her  dying  husband  in  the  face.  Some 
tears  now  fell  down  her  cheeks ;  she  stretched 
herself  out,  for  she  was  a  little  bent  by  age,  lift- 
ed up  her  eyes,  ^  and,  extending  her  hands  to- 
wards heaven,  prayed  wiih  the  utmost  fervour 
of  heart ;  she  fetched  her  breath  deeply  every  time, 
which  she  spent  in  an  ardent  ejaculation.  She 
spoke  the  words  as  she  was  wont,  in  low  Ger- 
man, but  all  were  full  of  spirit  and  life.  The 
purport  of  them  was,  that  her  God  and  Redeemer 
would  graciously  receive  her  dear  husband's 
soul,  and  take  him  to  himself  in  everlasting  joy. 


STILLING. 

!  As  she  began  to  pray,  all  her  children  looked 
up  astonished,  sank  by  the  bedside  upon  their 
knees,  and  prayed  with  her  in  silence.  The 
last  mortal  blow  now  arrived:— the  whole  body 
was  convulsed,  he  uttered  a  cry,  and  departed. 
Margaret  ceased  praying,  took  her  deceased  hus- 
band's right  hand,  shook  it,  and  said,  "  Fare- 
well, Eberhard!  we  shall  soon  meet  again  in 
heaven."  On  saying  this,  she  sank  upon  her 
knees,  while  all  her  children  fell  down  around 
her.  Margaret  now  wept  the  bitterest  tears,  and 
mourned  deeply. 

Meanwhile  the  neighbours  came  to  dress  the 
deceased.  The  children  rose  up,  and  the  mother 
fetched  the  shroud.  He  lay  till  the  following 
Monday  on  the  bier,  and  was  then  taken  to 
Florenburgh  to  be  interred. 

The  R.everend  Mr.  Stollbein  appears  in  this 
history  as  a  strange  and  obstinate  man ;  but 
when  not  in  this  humour,  he  was  kind  and  ten- 
der-hearted. When  Stilling  was  lowered  into 
his  grave,  he  wept  big  tears ;  and,  in  the  pulpit, 
in  the  midst  of  continual  weeping,  his  words 
were,  "  I  am  grieved  for  thee,  my  brother  Jona- 
than !  Would  God,  I  had  died  for  thee  !"  And 
the  text  for  the  funeral  sermon  was,  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant !  thou  hast  been  faith- 
ful over  a  few  things,  I  will  make  thee  ruler 
over  many.  Enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thv 
Lord !" 

Should  any  of  my  readers  come  to  Floren- 
burgh, opposite  the  church-door,  at  the  highest 
part  of  the  church-yard,  sleeps  Father  Stilling, 
on  the  ascent.  No  sumptuous  tombstone  cov- 
ers his  grave  ;  but  in  the  spring,  a  pair  of  doves 
coo  and  caress  each  other  solitarily  between  the 
grass  and  the  flowers  which  spring  forth  from 
the  mouldering  remains  of  Father  Stilling. 


HEINRICH  STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Father  Stilling  was  gone  to  the  quiet  habita- 
tion of  his  forefathers,  and  in  his  house  every 
thing  reposed  in  mournful  and  deathlike  silence. 
For  upwards  of  a  century,  every  hatchet,  milk- 
pail,  and  other  article  of  household  furniture, 
had  had  its  fixed  place,  and  from  long  use  had 
become  smooth  and  polished.  Each  neighbour 
and  friend  from  the  neighbourhood  or  from  a 
distance,  always  found  every  thing  in  its  wont- 
ed order  ;  and  this  renders  people  sociable.  On 
entering  the  house-door,  the  individual  felt  him- 
self at  home.  But  now,  every  thing  was  still 
and  deserted,  the  voice  of  mirth  and  joy  was 
silent,  and  his  place  at  the  table  remained  emp- 
ty; no  one  ventured  to  sit  down  in  it,  until  at 
length  Heinrich  took  possession  of  it ;  but  he 
only  half-filled  it. 

Margaret  Stilling,  meanwhile,  mourned  calm- 
ly and  without  complaining  ;  but  Heinrich  spoke 
much  with  her  concerning  his  grandfather.  He 
imagined  heaven  to  himself  as  a  glorious  coun- 
try, full  of  woods,  fields,  and  meadows,  in  all 
the  bloom  and  verdure  of  the  finest  spring,  when 
the  south  wind  breathes  over  them,  and  the  sun 
imparts  life  and  fecundity  to  every  creature. 
He  then  saw  father  Stilling  walking  about  with 
a  glory  round  his  head,  and  a  silvery  robe  flow- 
ing about  him. 

All  his  conversation  had  reference  to  these 


ideas.  Margaret  once  asked  him,  "  What  think- 
est  thou,  Heinrich,  that  thy  grandfather  is  doing 
at  present  1"  He  answered,  "  He  will  be  trav- 
elling to  Orion,  to  Sirius,  to  Charles's  Wain,  and 
the  Pleiades,  and  take  a  good  view  of  every 
thing  ;  he  will  then  be  truly  astonished,  and  say, 
as  he  has  so  often  said,  '  0  what  a  wonderful 
God!'"  "But  I  have  no  mind  for  all  this," 
said  Margaret ;  "  what  shall  I  do  there  1"  Hein- 
rich rejoined,  "  Act  like  Mary,  who  sat  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus."  With  such  discourse  the  memo- 
ry of  the  good  man  was  frequently  renewed. 

The  housekeeping  could  not  long  exist  on  the 
footing  it  now  was ;  the  old  mother,  therefore, 
requested  her  son-in-law  Simon,  with  his  wife 
Elizabeth,  to  take  up  their  abode  again  in  the 
house,  for  they  had  rented  a  house  and  garden 
in  another  place,  where  they  resided  during- 
father  Stilling's  life.  They  came  with  their 
children  and  furniture,  and  took  charge  of  the 
paternal  inheritance ; — immediately  every  thing 
became  strange  ;  they  broke  down  a  wall  of  the 
room,  and  built  out  four  feet  further  into  the 
yard.  Simon  had  not  room  enough.  He  was 
no  Stilling ;  and  the  oaken  table,  full  of  bless- 
ing and  hospitality — the  honest  old  table — was 
obliged  to  make  way  for  a  yellow  maple  one, 
full  of  closed  drawers,  and  had  its  place  assign- 
ed it  on  the  beam  behind  the  chimney.  Hein- 
rich occasionally  made  a  pilgrimage  thither,  laid 
himself  down  near  it,  on  the  loft,  and  wept. 


STILLIN  G\S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


25 


Simon  found  him  once  in  this  posture,  and  said 
to  him,  "Heinrich,  what  art  thqu  doing  here!" 
The  latter  answered,  "  I  am  weeping  about  the 
table."  The  uncle  laughed,  and  said,  "Thou 
hast  good  reason  to  weep  for  an  old  oaken 
board  !"  Heinrich  was  vexed,  and  added,  "  This 
handle  behind,  and  that  foot  there,  and  this  work 
at  the  handle,  was  made  by  my  grandfather ;  he 
that  loves  him  would  not  break  it."  Simon  was 
angry,  and  replied,  "It  was  not  large  enough 
for  me  ;  and  besides,  what  should  I  have  done 
with  my  own  1"  "  Uncle,"  said  Heinrich,  "  you 
should  have  placed  it  here  till  my  grandmother 
dies,  and  the  rest  of  us  are  gone." 

Meanwhile,  every  thing  was  changed ;  the 
gentle  breathing  of  Stilling's  spirit  was  trans- 
muted into  the  roaring  of  an  anxious  desire  after 
money  and  property.  Margaret  felt  this,  and 
her  children  with  her  ;  she  retired  into  a  corner 
behind  the  stove,  and  there  she  spent  her  re- 
maining years  ;  she  became  entirely  blind,  yet 
this  did  not  hinder  her  from  spinning  flax,  in 
which  she  passed  her  time. 

Father  Stilling  is  gone ;  I  will  now  follow 
the  footsteps  of  young  Heinrich,  his  grandson, 
wherever  he  may  go  ;  nothing  besides  shall  re- 
tard me. 


Johann  Stilling  was  now  bailiff  and  landmeas- 
arer ;  Wilhelm  schoolmaster  at  Tiefenbach  ; 
Maria  at  service  with  her  sister  Elizabeth  ;  the 
other  daughters  were  married  out  of  the  house  ; 
and  Heinrich  went  to  Florenburgh  to  the  Latin 
school. 

Wilhelm  had  a  room  in  Stilling's  house ;  in 
it  there  stood  a  bed  in  which  he  slept  with  his 
son,  and  at  the  window  was  a  table  with  the 
appurtenances  of  his  trade,  for  as  soon  as  he 
came  from  the  school  he  laboured  at  his  needle. 
In  the  morning  early,  Heinrich  took  his  satchel, 
in  which,  besides  the  necessary  schoolbooks, 
there  was  a  sandwich  for  dinner,  as  also  the 
"  History  of  the  Four  Children  of  Haymon,"  or 
some  other  such  book,  together  with  a  shep- 
herd's flute.  As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted, 
he  set  off;  and  when  he  was  outside  the  vil- 
lage, he  took  out  his  book,  and  read  whilst  walk- 
ing, or  else  quavered  some  old  ballad  or  other 
tune  upon  his  flute.  Learning  Latin  was  not  at 
all  difficult  to  him,  and  he  had  still  time  enough 
to  read  old  tales.  In  the  summer  he  went  home 
every  evening ;  but  in  the  winter  he  came  only 
on  the  Saturday  evening,  and  went  away  again 
on  the  Monday  morning  ; — this  continued  four 
years ;  but  the  last  summer  he  stayed  much  at 
home,  and  assisted  his  father  at  his  trade,  or 
made  buttons. 

Even  the  road  to  Florenburgh  and  the  school 
afforded  him  many  a  pleasant  hour.  The  school- 
master was  a  gentle  and  sensible  man,  and 
knew  bcth  how  to  give  and  to  take.  After  din- 
ner Stilling  assembled  a  number  of  children 
about  him,  went  out  with  them  into  the  fields, 
or  to  the  edge  of  a  brook,  and  then  related  to 
them  all  kinds  of  fine  sentimental  tales ;  and 
after  his  store  was  exhausted,  others  were 
obliged  to  do  the  same.  Some  of  them  were 
once  together  in  a  meadow,  when  a  boy  came 
to  them,  who  began  as  follows  :  "  Hear  me, 
children  i  I  will  tell  you  something.  Near  us 
lives  old  Frühling  :  you  know  how  he  totters 
about  with  his  stick  ;  he  has  no  longer  any 
D 


teeth,  and  he  cannot  see  or  hear  much.  Now, 
when  he  sits  at  the  dinner-table,  and  trembles 
in  such  a  manner,  he  always  scatters  much,  and 
sometimes  something  falls  out  of  his  mouth 
again.  This  disgusted  his  son  and  his  daugh- 
ter-in-law ;  and,  therefore,  the  old  grandfather 
was  at  length  obliged  to  eat  in  the  corner,  be- 
hind the  stove  ;  they  gave  him  something  to  eat 
in  an  earthen  dish,  and  that  often  not  enough 
to  satisfy  him.  I  have  seen  him  eating ;  and 
he  looked  so  sad  after  dinner,  and  his  eyes  were 
wet  with  tears.  Well,  the  day  before  yester- 
day he  broke  his  earthen  dish.  The  young, 
woman  scolded  him  severely,  but  he  said  noth- 
ing, and  only  sighed.  They  then  bought  him  a 
wooden  dish  for  a  couple  of  farthings,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  eat  out  of  it  yesterday  for  the 
first  time.  Whilst  they  were  sitting  thus  at 
dinner,  their  little  boy,  who  is  three  years  and 
a  half  old,  began  to  gather  little  boards  together 
on  the  floor.  Young  Frühling  said  to  him, 
'  What  art  thou  doing  there,  Peter  V  '  0,'  said 
the  child,  4 1  am  making  a  little  trough,  out  of 
which  my  father  and  mother  shall  eat  when  I 
am  grown  up.5  Young  Frühling  and  his  wife 
looked  at  each  other  awhile ;  at  length  they 
began  to  weep,  and  immediately  fetched  the  old 
grandfather  to  the  table,  and  let  him  eat  with 
them." 

The  children  sprang  up,  clapped  their  hands, 
and  cried  out,  "That  is  very  pretty  ; — did  little 
Peter  say  sol"  "Yes,"  rejoined  the  boy,  "I 
stood  by  when  it  happened."  Heinrich  Stilling, 
however,  did  not  laugh :  he  stood  still,  and 
looked  down  ;  the  tale  penetrated  through  him, 
even  to  his  inmost  soul ;  at  length  he  began : 
"  I  believe  if  that  had  happened  to  my  grand- 
father, he  would  have  risen  up  from  his  wooden 
dish,  gone  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  and,  hav- 
ing placed  himself  there,  would  have  exclaimed, 
'  Lord,  strengthen  me  at  this  time,  that  I  may 
avenge  myself  of  these  Philistines  !'  He  would 
then  have  laid  hold  of  the  corner-posts,  and  have 
pulled  the  house  down  about  them."  "  Gently, 
gently,  Stilling!"  said  one  of  the  tallest  of  the 
boys  to  him  ;  "  that  would  have  been  a  little  too 
bad  of  thy  grandfather."  "Thou  art  in  the 
right,"  said  Heinrich  ;  "  but  only  think  how  Sa- 
tanic it  was  ! — how  often  may  old  Frühling  have 
had  his  boy  in  his  lap,  and  put  the  best  morsels 
into  his  mouth  !  It  would  not  have  been  won- 
derful if  some  fiery  dragon,  at  midnight,  when 
the  first  quarter  of  the  moon  had  just  set,  had 
hurled  itself  down  the  chimney  of  such  a  house, 
and  poisoned  all  the  food."  It  was  nothing 
strange  that  he  thought  of  the  dragon  ;  for  some- 
days  before,  on  going  home  in  the  evening,  he 
himself  had  seen  what  he  thought  a  great  one 
flying  through  the  air,  and  he  was  still  firmly 
persuaded  that  it  was  one  of  the  chief  of  the 
devils. 

Thus  the  time  glided  away,  and  the  period 
was  at  hand  when  he  was  to  leave  the  Latin 
school,  and  assist  his  father  in  his  trade.  This 
was,  however,  a  great  trial  to  him  ;  he  lived 
only  amongst  his  books,  and  it  always  seemed 
to  him  that  time  enough  was  not  afforded  him 
for  reading  ;  on  which  account  he  had  an  inde- 
scribable longing  to  become  a  schoolmaster. 
This  was,  in  his  eyes,  the  most  honourable  sta- 
tion he  ever  expected  to  attain.  The  thought 
of  becoming  a  preacher  was  too  far  beyond  his 


26 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


sphere.  But  when  he  sometimes  soared  on 
high,  imagined  himself  in  the  pulpit,  and  then 
reflected  what  a  happiness  it  would  be  to  spend 
a  whole  life  surrounded  by  books,  his  heart  en- 
larged—delight pervaded  him,  and  then  it  some- 
times occurred  to  him  that  God  did  not  create 
this  impulse  in  him  in  vain ;  therefore  said  he. 
"  I  will  be  quiet.  He  will  lead  me,  and  I  will 
follow  him." 

This  enthusiasm  sometimes  induced  him, 
when  his  family  was  not  at  home,  to  act  a  pleas- 
ant comedy ;  he  collected  as  many  children  round 
him  as  he  could  gather  together,  hung  a  woman's 
black  apron  on  his  back,  made  himself  a  ruff  of 
white  paper,  which  he  put  round  his  neck,  then 
ascended  an  arm-chair,  with  the  back  before 
him,  and  began  to  preach  with  a  gravity  which 
astonished  all  his  hearers.  He  did  this  often  ; 
for  it  was  perhaps  the  only  child's  play  in  which 
he  ever  indulged. 

Now,  it  happened  on  one  occasion,  as  he  was 
declaiming  very  violently,  and  making  hell  hot 
for  his  hearers,  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein  all 
at  once  entered  the  room ;  he  did  not  often 
smile,  but  this  time  he  could  not  smother  his 
laughter.  Heinrich,  however,  did  not  laugh, 
but  stood  there  like  a  statue,  pale  as  the  wall, 
and  he  was  nearer  weeping  than  laughing.  His 
hearers  placed  themselves  all  along  the  wall, 
and  folded  their  hands.  Heinrich  looked  timid- 
ly at  the  clergyman,  fearing  lest  he  should  lift 
up  his  cane  to  strike  him,  for  such  was  his  cus- 
tom when  he  saw  children  at  play  ;— however, 
he  did  not  do  so  on  this  occasion ;  he  merely 
said,  "  Come  down  and  place  thyself  yonder, 
and  throw  aside  that  foolish  dress  !"  Heinrich 
willingly  obeyed.    Stollbein  continued  : 

"  I  believe  thou  intendest  to  act  the  preacher." 

Heinrich. — "I  have  no  money  to  study." 

Stollbein. — "Thou  shalt  not  be  a  preacher, 
but  a  schoolmaster." 

Heinrich.—  "That  I  will,  gladly,  your  rever- 
ence !  But  if  our  Lord  God  will  have  me  be- 
come a  preacher,  or  some  other  learned  man, 
must  I  then  say,  *  No,  gracious  God,  I  will  con- 
tinue a  schoolmaster — his  reverence  will  have 
it  so.' " 

Stollbein. — "  Hold  thy  tongue,  thou  ass  !  dost 
thou  not  know  whom  thou  hast  before  thee?" 

The  clergyman  then  catechized  all  the  chil- 
dren, in  which  he  had  an  excellent  gift. 

At  the  next  opportunity  Mr.  Stollbein  sought 
to  persuade  Wilhelm  to  send  his  son  to  the  uni- 
versity ;  he  even  promised  to  procure  the  sup- 
plies, but  this  undertaking  was  too  great  to  be 
surmounted. 

Heinrich,  meanwhile,  struggled  honestly  with 
his  unpleasant  situation.  His  inclination  to 
keep  a  school  was  inexpressible ;  but  solely  in 
order  that  he  might  get  rid  of  his  trade,  and  be 
able  to  occupy  himself  with  books  ;  for  he  felt 
plainly  that  the  instruction  of  other  children 
would  be  extremely  tedious  to  him.  However, 
he  made  his  life  as  tolerable  as  he  possibly  could. 
Mathematics,  together  with  ancient  histories, 
and  tales  of  romance,  were  his  department ;  for 
he  had  really  studied  through  Tobias  Beutel, 
and  Bion's  mathematical  work-school ;  dialling, 
in  particular,  delighted  him  beyond  measure. 
It  was  curious  to  see  how  he  had  garnished  the 
corner  in  which  he  sat  at  his  needle,  according 
to  his  own  fancy.    The  window-panes  were  full 


of  sun-dials ;  inside,  before  the  window,  there 
stood  a  square  hlock,  in  the  shape  of  a  die,  cov- 
ered with  paper,  all  the  five  sides  of  which  were 
adorned  with  sun-dials,  the  hands  of  which  were 
broken  needles.  On  the  ceiling  above,  there 
was  likewise  a  sun-dial,  on  which  light  was  cast 
by  a  piece  of  looking-glass  in  the  window  ;  and 
an  astronomical  ring,  made  of  whalebone,  hung 
by  a  thread  before  the  window  ;  this  latter  served 
in  the  place  of  a  watch,  when  he  went  out.  All 
these  dials  were  not  only  correctly  and  properly 
drawn,  but  he  also,  even  then,  understood  com- 
mon geometry,  together  with  writing  and  arith- 
metic thoroughly,  although  he  was  only  a  boy 
of  twelve  years  of  age,  and  an  apprentice  to  the 
trade  of  a  tailor. 

Young  Stilling  now  also  began  to  attend  Mr. 
Stollbein's  catechizations.  But  though  this 
was  a  trifle  to  him,  yet  it  had  also  its  difficul- 
ties ;  for  as  the  reverend  gentleman  had  always 
an  eye  upon  him,  he  continually  discovered 
something  that  displeased  him  ;  for  instance, 
when  he  entered  the  church  or  the  vestry,  he 
was  always  the  foremost,  and  had  therefore  al- 
so always  the  uppermost  place ;  this  Stollbein 
could  not  endure,  for  he  uncommonly  loved  hu- 
mility in  other  people.  Once,  he  attacked  him, 
and  said, — 

"Why  art  thou  always  the  foremost?" 
He  answered,  "  When  there  is  any  thing  to 
learn,  I  am  not  willingly  the  hindmost." 

Stollbein. — "  What,  thou  clown  1 — knowest 
thou  no  medium  between  behind  and  in  the 
front?" 

Stilling  would  gladly  have  added  a  word  or 
two,  but  he  was  afraid  of  enraging  the  clergy- 
man. Mr.  Stollbein  walked  up  the  room,  and 
on  coming  down,  he  said  smiling, — "  Stilling, 
how  do'st  thou  translate  medium  tenucre  beati  ?" 

Heinrich. — "  That  means,  the  saints  have 
kept  the  middle  way ;  yet  it  seems  to  me,  it 
might  also  be  said,  plerique  medium  tenentes  sunt 
darnnatiy  (The  most  of  those  are  damned,  who 
kept  the  middle  way — that  is,  men  neither  cold 
nor  hot:)  Mr.  Stollbein  started,  looked  at  him, 
and  said,  "  Boy,  I  tell  thee  thou  shalt  have  the 
right  of  standing  first ;  thou  hast  made  an  e£ 
cellent  reply."  However,  he  never  stood  fore- 
most again,  in  order  that  the  other  children 
might  not  be  vexed.  I  know  not  whether  it 
was  cowardice  or  humility.  Mr.  Stollbein  now 
asked  him  why  he  did  not  go  to  his  place.  He 
answered,  "  He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be 
exalted."  "  Silence  !"  rejoined  the  clergyman ; 
"  thou  art  a  presumptuous  boy." 

Things  continued  thus  until  Easter  of  the 
year  1755,  when  Heinrich  Stilling  was  fourteen 
years  and  a-half  old.  A  fortnight  before  this 
time,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein  sent  for  him  to 
come  to  him  alone,  and  said  to  him,  "  Hear  me, 
Stilling  ;  I  would  gladly  make  a  brave  fellow  of 
thee,  but  thou  must  behave  thyself  well,  and  be 
obedient  to  me,  thy  superior.  At  Easter  I  will 
confirm  thee,  with  some  others,  who  are  older 
than  thou,  for  the  reception  of  the  holy  sacra- 
ment, and  then  I  will  see  if  I  cannot  make  a 
schoolmaster  of  thee."  Stilling's  heart  leaped 
for  joy ;  he  thanked  the  clergyman,  and  pro- 
mised to  do  every  thing  he  wished  him.  This 
pleased  the  old  man  exceedingly ;  he  let  him  go 
in  peace,  and  faithfully  kept  his  word  ;  for  at 
Easter  he  went  to  the  sacrament,  and  was  im- 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


27 


mediately  appointed  schoolmaster  of  Zellberg, 
which  office  he  was  to  enter  upon  on  the  first 
of  May.  The  Zellberg  people  also  anxiously 
desired  him,  for  his  fame  had  spread  far  and 
wide.  It  is  impossible  to  express  the  pleasure 
which  young  Stilling  felt  on  this  occasion  ;  he 
could  scarcely  wait  for  the  day  which  was  fixed 
for  his  entrance  into  office. 

Zellberg  lies  just  behind  the  summit  of  the 
Giller  ;  and  the  road  to  it  from  Tiefenbach  leads 
directly  up  through  the  wood.  As  soon  as  a 
person  ascends  the  hill,  he  has  before  him  a 
large  level  field,  near  the  right  side  of  the  wood, 
whose  aged  oaks  and  beech-trees  planted  in  a 
straight  line  towards  the  east,  like  a  Prussian 
regiment  on  the  parade,  seem  to  prop  the  sky  ; 
in  the  same  direction,  at  the  end  of  the  wood, 
there  rises  a  bushy  hill,  called  the  Heights,  and 
also,  the  Hängesberg  ;  this  is  the  highest  point 
in  all  Westphalia.  From  Tiefenbach  to  this 
place,  there  is  a  continual,  straight,  and  steep 
ascent,  for  three  quarters  of  a  league.  To  the 
left  lies  a  delightful  plain,  which,  towards  the 
north,  elevates  itself  into  a  hill,  covered  with 
corn-fields  ;  this  is  called  St.  Anthony's  Church ; 
probably  a  chapel  stood  there  in  ancient  times, 
dedicated  to  that  saint.  In  the  front  of  this 
hill,  to  the  south,  lies  a  charming  manorial  farm, 
which  is  occupied  by  farmers.  To  the  north- 
east, the  plain  terminates  in  a  beautiful  mea- 
dow, at  the  foot  of  two  bushy  hills ;  betwixt 
this  meadow  and  the  heights  a  green  path-way 
leads  through  the  bushes  from  the  field,  along 
the  side  of  the  hill,  until  at  length  it  hides  itself 
in  solemn  obscurity  from  the  view  ;  it  is  a  mere 
forest-path,  so  formed  by  nature  and  accident. 
As  soon  as  the  highest  hill  is  surmounted,  the 
traveller  arrives  at  the  village  of  Zellberg ;  it 
lies  therefore  on  the  east  side  of  the  Giller, 
where  a  brook  springs  up  in  a  meadow,  which 
at  length  becomes  a  river,  and  falls  into  the 
"Weser  not  far  from  Cassel.  The  situation  of 
this  place  is  enchantingly  beautiful,  particularly 
towards  the  close  of  the  spring,  during  the  sum- 
mer, and  in  the  beginning  of  autumn  ;  but  in  the 
winter  it  is  terrible  there.  The  howling  of  the 
storm,  and  the  quantity  of  snow  which  is  hurled 
down  by  the  wind,  transforms  this  paradise  into 
a  Norwegian  landscape.  This  place  therefore 
was  the  first  in  which  Heinrich  Stilling  was  to 
give  proof  of  his  abilities. 

In  the  small  villages  in  that  country,  school 
is  kept  from  the  first  of  May  till  Martinmas,  and 
consequently  through  the  summer,  but  only  two 
days  in  the  week,  namely,  Friday  and  Satur- 
day ;  and  such  was  also  the  case  at  Zellberg. 
Stilling  went  thither  on  the  Friday  morning  at 
sunrise,  and  returned  the  Saturday  evening. 
This  walk  had  for  him  something  indescribable, 
particularly  when  he  ascended  the  hill  and  en- 
tered the  plain  before  sunrise,  and  saw  the  sun 
rising  in  the  distance  between  the  bushy  hills  ; 
— before  it  breathed  a  gentle  wind,  which  play- 
ed with  his  locks  ;  his  heart  then  melted,  he 
often  wept,  and  wished  to  see  angels,  like  Jacob 
at  Mahanaim.  When  he  thus  stood  dissolved 
in  feelings  of  delight,  he  turned  about,  and  saw 
Tiefenbach  lying  below  in  nocturnal  vapour. 
To  the  left,  a  large  hill  descended  from  the  Gil- 
ler, called  der  hitzige  Stein ;  and  forward,  to  the 
right,  lay  close  at  hand  the  ruins  of  Geisenberg 
castle.    All  the  scenes  which  had  there  taken 


place  between  his  father  and  his  late  mother, 
and  between  his  father  and  himself,  then  pre- 
sented themselves  to  his  soul,  like  so  many  pic- 
tures irradiated  with  the  most  glorious  light ; 
he  stood  like  one  intoxicated,  and  yielded  him- 
self entirely  up  to  his  sensations.  He  then 
looked  at  the  distant  prospect  ; — twelve  Ger- 
man miles  southward  lay  the  Taunus,  or  Feld- 
bergrnear  Frankfort ;  eight  or  nine  miles  west- 
ward, lay  before  him  the  seven  hills  on  the 
Rhine,  besides  numberless  less  celebrated  emi- 
nences ;  but  to  the  north-west  lay  a  high  hill, 
whose  summit  almost  rivalled  that  of  the  Gil- 
ler, and  hid  from  Stilling's  view  the  prospect  of 
the  scene  of  his  future  important  destinies. 

This  was  the  place  where  Heinrich  could 
linger  for  an  hour  together,  without  being  fully 
conscious  of  himself;  his  whole  spirit  was 
prayer,  inward  peace,  and  love  to  the  Almighty, 
who  had  made  all  these  things. 

Sometimes  also,  he  wished  himself  a  prince, 
that  he  might  build  a  town  upon  this  plain.  It 
was  immediately  there  in  his  imagination.  His 
own  residence  was  fixed  on  the  St.  Anthony's 
Church  ;— on  the  heights  he  saw  the  citadel  of 
the  town,  like  Montalban  in  the  wooden  cuts  in 
the  book  of  the  Fair  Melusina ;  this  citadel  was 
to  be  called  Heinrichsburg  ;  but  as  to  the  name 
of  the  town,  he  was  still  in  doubt ;  however,  the 
name  Stillingen  seemed  to  him  the  most  beauti- 
ful. Whilst  occupied  in  this  manner,  he  as- 
cended from  a  prince  to  a  king ;  but  when  he 
had  reached  "  the  Heights,"  he  saw  Zellberg  ly- 
ing before  him,  and  he  was  then  nothing  more 
than  the  temporary  schoolmaster  of  that  place, 
and  with  this  he  was  quite  satisfied — for  he  had 
time  for  reading. 

There  dwelt  at  this  place  a  forester,  of  the 
name  of  Krüger,  a  worthy  and  honest  man ; 
this  person  had  two  young  boys,  of  whom  he 
was  desirous  to  make  something.  He  had  been 
cordially  attached  to  old  Stilling,  and  therefore 
he  loved  his  children  also.  It  gave  joy  to  the 
soul  of  this  man  to  see  young  Stilling  as  school- 
master in  his  village.  He  therefore  resolved  to 
take  him  into  his  house.  Heinrich  was  well 
pleased  with  this  arrangement ;  his  father  made 
all  the  clothes  for  the  forester  and  his  family, 
and  therefore  was  well  acquainted  with  them  ; 
besides,  he  knew  that  Krüger  had  many  rare 
books,  of  which  he  hoped  to  make  good  use. 
He  consequently  fixed  his  quarters  there  ;  and 
the  first  thing  he  undertook  was  the  examina- 
tion of  Krüger's  library.  He  opened  an  old 
folio,  and  found  a  translation  of  Homer  in  Ger- 
man verse ;  he  leaped  for  joy,  kissed  the  book, 
pressed  it  to  his  breast,  requested  the  loan  of  it, 
and  took  it  with  him  to  the  school,  where  he 
carefully  shut  it  up  in  the  drawer  under  the  ta- 
ble, and  read  in  it  as  often  as  possible.  He  had 
translated  Virgil  at  the  Latin  school ;  and  on 
that  occasion  had  heard  so  much  of  Homer,  that 
he  would  previously  have  given  treasures  to 
have  been  able  to  read  it ;  the  opportunity  now 
presented  itself  to  him,  and  he  faithfully  availed 
himself  of  it. 

Seldom  has  the  Iliad,  since  it  has  been  in  the 
world,  been  read  with  more  rapture  and  feeling. 
Hector  was  a  man — not  so  Achilles — still  less 
Agamemnon;  in  a  word,  he  took  the  part  of 
the  Trojans  throughout :  yet  he  scarcely  deign- 
ed to  bestow  a  thought  upon  Paris  and  his  Hel- 


28  HEINRICH 

en  ;  particularly  because  he  always  remained  at 
home,  although  he  caused  the  war.  "  What  an 
intolerably  miserable  fellow  he  is  !"  thought  he 
often  to  himself  He  regretted  no  one  so  much 
as  old  Priam.  The  images  and  scenery  of  Ho- 
mer were  so  much  according  to  his  taste,  that 
he  could  not  refrain  from  exulting  aloud  when- 
ever he  met  with  a  very  animated  expression, 
which  was  adapted  to  the  subject ; — this  would 
have  been  the  right  time  for  him  to  have  read 
Ossian. 

This  high  degree  of  sentimentalism  had  how- 
ever its  minor  causes  also,  for  the  whole  sur- 
rounding country  contributed  to  it.  Let  the 
reader  imagine  to  himself  a  mind  susceptible, 
even  to  the  highest  degree  of  enthusiasm,  whose 
taste  was  natural,  and  not  yet  in  subjection  to 
any  specific  mode,  and  which  had  felt,  seen,  and 
studied  nothing  but  real  nature,  which  lived 
without  care  or  sorrow,  highly  satisfied  with  its 
situation,  and  open  to  every  pleasure  ; — imagine 
such  a  spirit  reading  Homer,  in  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  natural  scenery  in  the  world,  and  that 
early  in  the  morning ; — call  to  mind  the  situa- 
tion of  the  place  :  he  sat  in  the  school,  near  two 
windows  which  looked  towards  the  east ;  the 
school  stood  on  the  south  side,  on  the  declivity 
of  the  loftiest  hill,  and  around  it  were  planted 
old  birch-trees  with  snow-white  stems,  on  a 
verdant  lawn,  whose  dark-green  leaves  trem- 
bled continually  in  the  restless  breeze.  To- 
wards sunrise,  there  was  a  beautiful  valley  of 
meadows  bordered  by  bushy  hills  and  moun- 
tains. Towards  the  south  lay,  something  low- 
er, the  village  ;  behind  it  a  meadow,  and  then 
a  range  of  fields  imperceptibly  rose,  which  were 
terminated  by  a  wood.  Towards  the  west,  and 
near  at  hand,  was  the  lofty  Giller  with  its  thou- 
sand oaks.  Here  Stilling  read  Homer  in  May 
and  June,  when  the  whole  hemisphere  is  beau- 
tiful, and  rejoices  in  the  strength  of  its  Preserv- 
er and  Supporter. 

In  addition  to  this,  all  his  peasants  were  na- 
turally a  good  sort  of  people,  whose  minds  were 
stored  with  old  tales  and  narratives,  which  they 
brought  to  light  on  every  occasion.  By  this 
means  the  schoolmaster  was  nourished  with  his 
own  element  and  increasingly  disposed  to  sen- 
timentalism. On  one  occasion,  he  took  a  walk 
upon  the  highest  hill  behind  the  school ;  and  on 
its  summit  he  met  with  an  old  peasant  from  the 
village,  who  was  gathering  sticks  :  as  soon  as 
the  latter  saw  the  schoolmaster  coming,  he 
ceased  working  and  said,  "  It  is  well,  schoolmas- 
ter, that  you  are  come,  for  I  am  tired.  Listen 
now  to  what  I  will  tell  you  ;  I  was  just  think- 
ing about  it.  I  and  your  grandfather  once  burnt 
charcoal  here,  above  thirty  years  ago,  and  we 
were  then  very  happy.  We  always  came  to 
meet  each  other,  ate  and  drank  together,  and 
were  continually  talking  over  old  tales.  As  far 
as  your  eye  can  reach,  you  cannot  see  a  hill  the 
name  of  which  we  did  not  call  to  mind,  and  the 
place  to  which  it  adjoins ;  we  had  then  great 
pleasure  in  lying  down  on  the  grass,  in  this 
manner,  and  telling  each  other  tales,  pointing 
out  at  the  same  time  the  place  where  they  hap- 
pened." The  peasant  now  held  his  left  hand 
over  his  eyes,  and  with  his  right  he  pointed  to- 
wards the  west  and  north-west,  and  said,  "A 
little  below,  yonder,  you  see  Geisenberg  castle  ; 
immediately  behind  it,  a  good  way  off,  is  a  lofty 


STILLING. 

hill  with  three  summits,  the  middle  one  of  which 
is  still  called  the  Kindelsberg.  In  ancient  times, 
there  stood  a  castle  there,  which  had  also  that 
name,  and  wherein  resided  some  knights,  who 
were  very  wicked.  To  the  right,  they  had  a 
very  excellent  silver-mine,  by  which  they  be- 
came amazingly  rich.  Well,  what  happened  ? 
Their  presumption  went  so  far  that  they  caused 
silver  balls  to  be  made,  and  when  they  played, 
they  struck  at  these  balls  with  silver  bats  ; — - 
then  they  baked  large  cakes  of  wheaten  flour, 
as  big  as  coach-wheels,  made  holes  in  the  mid- 
dle, and  put  axle-trees  on  them  ;  now  this  was 
a  heinous  sin,  for  how  many  people  have  not 
bread  to  eat !  At  length  the  Lord  God  was 
weary  of  it ;  for  there  came  a  little  white  man 
to  the  castle,  one  evening  late,  who  notified  to 
them  that  they  must  all  die  within  three  days, 
and  gave  them  a  sign,  which  was,  that  in  that 
same  night  a  cow  would  cast  two  lambs.  This 
took  place,  but  no  one  heeded  it,  except  the 
youngest  son,  a  knight  whose  name  was  Sig- 
mund, and  a  daughter  who  was  a  very  beautiful, 
lady.  These  two  prayed  day  and  night.  The 
others  died  of  the  plague,  but  these  two  conti- 
nued alive.  But  there  was  here,  on  the  Gei- 
senberg, also  a  young  bold  knight,  who  con- 
stantly rode  a  large  black  horse,  on  which  ac- 
count he  was  always  termed  '  the  Knight  with 
the  black  horse.'  He  was  a  wicked  man,  and 
was  continually  robbing  and  murdering.  This 
knight  fell  in  love  with  the  fair  lady  on  the  Kin- 
delsberg, and  would  absolutely  have  her ;  but 
the  thing  had  a  bad  end.  I  still  know  an  old 
song  about  it." 

The  schoolmaster  said,  "  Let  me  beg  of  you, 
Kraft,"  for  so  was  the  peasant  called,  "to  re- 
peat the  song  to  me."  Kraft  answered,  "  That 
I  will,  gladly  ;  I  will  sing  it  to  you." 

"  Near  Kindelsberg  castle's  lofty  towers, 
There  stands  an  old  linden-tree  ; 
Its  numerous  branches,  so  crooked  and  large, 
Wave  in  the  cool  breeze  so  free. 

Close  to  this  linden-tree  there  stands 

A  stone  both  broad  and  high ; 
'Tis  clad  with  old  moss  of  red  and  grey  hue 

And  the  storm  and  the  rain  doth  defy- 
There  sleeps  a  maiden  the  doleful  sleep, 

Who  was  true  to  her  knight  so  dear ; 
A  noble  count  of  the  Mark  was  he. 

But  her  end  was  woeful  and  drear. 

He  went  with  her  brother  to  a  distant  land, 

To  the  tournament  so  gay  ; 
He  gave  the  maiden  the  iron  hand  ; 

She  wept  in  sad  dismay. 

The  time  already  was  long  elapsed  ; 

The  count  return'd  not  again  ; 
She  sat  herself  down  by  the  linden-tree, 

And  mourn'd  from  heartfelt  pain. 

There  came  a  young  knight  to  the  place  where  she  lay,. 

Upon  a  jet-black  steed  ; 
He  spoke  to  the  maiden  in  friendly  guise, 
And  proudly  his  suit  did  plead. 

The  virgin  replied,  'Thou  never  mayest  have 

Me  for  thy  tender  bride, 
Until  this  linden-tree  .«o  green 

Shall  have  wither'd  away  and  died.' 

The  linden-tree  was  still  young  and  tall : — 

The  knight  sought  the  country  round 
For  a  wither'd  one,  equally  high  and  large, 

Until  such  a  tree  he  found. 

He  went  by  the  light  of  the  midnight  moon, 

Dug  up  the  green  linden-tree, 
And  planted  the  wither'd  one  in  its  place 

With  care,  that  none  might  see. 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


29 


The  maiden  rose  at  break  of  day, 

Her  window  appear'd  so  light; 
The  linden-tree's  shadow  play'd  on  it  no  more, 

And  darkness  cover'd  her  sight. 

Away  she  ran  to  the  linden- tree. 

And  sat  herself  down  to  complain  ; 
The  knight  soon  appear'd,  with  lofty  mien, 

And  demanded  her  heart  again. 

The  maiden  replied,  in  deep  distress, 

'  I  am  unable  thee  to  love!' 
The  haughty  knight  struck  her  dead  to  the  ground, 

Which  the  count  to  tears  did  move. 

The  count  return'd  that  self  same  day, 

And  saw,  in  doleful  mood, 
How  by  the  wither'd  linden  lay 

The  maiden  in  her  blood. 

And  there  he  made  a  grave  profound 

His  love's  sad  resting-place  ; 
And  sought  for  a  linden  the  country  round, 

The  virgin's  tomb  to  grace. 

And  a  large  stone  he  fixed  there, 

Which  stands  in  the  breeze  so  free ; — 
There  sleeps  the  maiden  once  so  fair, 

In  the  shade  of  the  linden-tree." 

Stilling  listened  in  silence  ; — he  scarcely  ven- 
tured to  breathe ; — the  fine  voice  of  old  Kraft, 
the  touching  melody,  and  the  tale  itself,  wrought 
upon  him  in  such  a  manner  that  his  heart  beat 
violently.  He  often  visited  the  old  peasant, 
who  sang  him  the  song  repeatedly,  until  he 
knew  it  from  memory. 

The  sun  now  sank  beneath  the  distant  blue 
hill,  and  Kraft  and  the  schoolmaster  descended 
the  eminence  together  ;  the  brown  and  piebald 
cows  were  grazing  in  the  pasture,  the  sound  of 
their  hoarse  bells  reechoing  hither  and  thither  ; 
the  boys  ran  about  in  the  gardens,  and  divided 
their  bread,  butter,  and  cheese  with  each  other  ; 
the  women  were  engaged  in  preparing  the  cow- 
stalls,  and  the  hens  fluttered  up  to  their  roosts  ; 
the  orange  and  red-brown  cock  turned  himself 
once  more  upon  his  perch  before  the  hole,  and 
and  crowed  a  good  night  to  his  neighbours  ;  the 
burners  of  charcoal  conversed  together,  as  they 
descended  the  wood,  their  wallets  on  their 
backs,  and  rejoiced  at  the  approach  of  repose. 

Heinrich  Stilling's  method  of  teaching  was 
singular,  and  so  ordered  that  he  lost  little  or 
nothing  by  it.  In  the  morning,  as  soon  as  the 
children  entered  the  school,  and  were  all  as- 
sembled, he  prayed  with  them  and  catechized 
them  in  the  first,  principles  of  religion,  according 
to  his  own  ideas,  without  book.  He  then  let 
each  of  them  read  a  portion  ;  when  this  was 
done,  he  encouraged  the  children  to  learn  the 
catechism,  promising  to  relate  charming  tales 
to  them  if  they  learned  their  tasks  well.  Mean- 
while he  wrote  what  they  were  to  copy,  let 
them  all  read  once  more,  and  then  began  his 
narrations,  by  which  all  that  he  had  ever  read 
in  the  Bible,  in  the  Emperor  Octavian,  the  Fair 
Magelone,  and  others,  was  gradually  exhausted  ; 
even  the  destruction  of  the  regal  city  of  Troy 
was  undertaken.  Such  was  the  manner  and 
custom  in  his  school,  from  one  day  to  another. 
It  is  impossible  to  express  with  what  zeal  the 
children  learned  their  tasks  in  order  that  they 
might  the  earlier  listen  to  the  tales  ;  and  if 
they  were  perverse  or  not  diligent,  the  school- 
master did  not  relate  his  histories,  but  read  to 
himself. 

No  one  lost  by  this  singular  mode  of  instruc- 
tion, but  the  scholars  in  A.  B.  C.  and  spelling; 
this  part  of  Stilling's  scholastic  duties  was 


much  too  tedious  for  him.  On  the  Sunday 
morning  the  school-children  assembled  them- 
selves around  their  agreeable  teacher,  and  thus 
he  walked  with  his  retinue,  whilst  relating  the 
most  beautiful  tales,  to  the  church  at  Floren- 
burg, and  after  sermon,  in  the  same  order,  home 
again. 

The  Zeliberg  people  were,  however,  well  sat- 
isfied with  Stilling ;  they  saw  that  their  children 
learned,  without  receiving  much  correction ; 
many  of  them  even  took  a  pleasure  in  all  the 
beautiful  tales  which  their  children  were  able 
to  relate  to  them.  Krüger,  in  particular,  loved 
him  extremely,  for  he  could  talk  much  with  him 
out  of  Paraacelsus  (for  so  he  pronounced  the 
word  Paracelsus) ;  he  had  an  old  German  trans- 
lation of  his  writings,  and  as  he  was  a  slavish 
admirer  of  all  those  whom  he  believed  to  have 
possessed  the  philosopher's  stone,  consequently 
Jacob  Böhme's,  Count  Bernhard's,  and  Paracel- 
sus's  works  were  precious  relics  in  his  esteem. 
Stilling  himself  had  a  relish  for  them,  not  merely 
on  account  of  the  philosopher's  stone,  but  be- 
cause he  thought  he  found  very  sublime  and 
glorious  ideas,  particularly  in  Böhme  ;  when 
they  pronounced  the  words  "  wheel  of  the  eter- 
nal essences,"  or  even  "oblique  lightning,"  and 
others  of  the  same  kind,  he  felt  a  very  peculiar 
elevation  of  mind.  They  investigated  magical 
figures  for  hours  together,  until  they  often  lost 
both  beginning  and  end,  and  imagined  that  the 
figures  before  them  lived  and  moved  ;  this  was 
then  a  real  enjoyment  of  soul  to  them  in  this 
kind  of  intoxication,  to  have  and  feel  grotesque 
ideas  in  a  lively  manner. 

This  paradisiacal  life,  however,  was  of  short 
duration.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein  and  Krüger 
the  forester,  were  mortal  enemies.  The  reason 
of  it  was  this  : — Stollbein  was  an  unlimited 
monarch  in  his  parish ;  his  privy-council,  I 
mean  the  consistory,  was  entirely  composed  of 
men  whom  he  himself  had  selected,  and  of 
whom  he  knew  beforehand,  that  they  were  sim- 
ple enough  always  to  say  yes.  Father  Stilling 
was  the  last  that  had  been  appointed  by  the 
former  preacher ;  hence  he  found  opposition  no 
where.  He  declared  war  and  concluded  peace, 
without  asking  advice  of  any  one ;  every  one 
feared  him,  and  trembled  in  his  presence.  How- 
ever, I  cannot  say  that  the  common  weal  suf- 
fered particularly  under  his  government ;  for 
with  all  his  faults  he  had  a  number  of  good 
qualities.  Only  Krüger  and  some  of  the  first 
people  of  Florenburg  hated  him  so  much  that 
they  scarcely  ever  went  to  church,  much  less 
took  the  sacrament  with  him.  Krüger  asserted 
openly,  that  he  was  possessed  by  the  evü  one  ; 
and  therefore  he  always  did  the  very  reverse 
of  that  which  the  clergyman  wished. 

After  Stilling  had  been  some  weeks  at  Zell- 
berg, Mr.  Stollbein  resolved  to  visit  his  new- 
schoolmaster  there.  He  came  to  the  school  at 
nine  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  ;  fortunately,  Still- 
ing was  neither  reading  nor  relating.  But  still 
he  knew  that  he  was  lodging  with  Krüger  ;  he 
therefore  looked  very  cross,  gazed  around  him, 
and  asked,  "What  are  you  doing  with  slates  in 
the  school?"  (Stilling  instructed  the  children 
in  the  evening  in  arithmetic,)  The  schoolmas- 
ter answered,  "  The  children  use  them  for  cal- 
culations in  the  evening."  The  clergyman 
continued, — 


30  HEINRICH 

"  That  I  can  suppose ;  but  who  told  you  to 
do  that  ?" 

Heinrich  knew  not  what  he  should  say  ;  he 
looked  his  reverence  in  the  face,  and  was  as- 
tonished ;  at  length  he  replied,  with  a  smile, 
"  He  that  appointed  me  to  teach  the  children  to 
read,  write,  and  the  catechism,  told  me  also  to 
instruct  them  in  arithmetic." 

Stollbein. — "  You  !  I  had  almost  said 

something.  Teach  them  first  what  is  most 
needful  for  them,  and  when  they  have  learned 
that,  then  teach  them  arithmetic  likewise." 

Stilling's  heart  now  began  to  give  way  ;  it 
was  constitutional  with  him,  instead  of  being 
angry  and  irritated  like  others,  for  the  tears  to 
come  into  his  eyes,  and  flow  down  his  cheeks  ; 
but  there  is  a  case  in  which  he  can  be  really 
angry,  and  that  is,  when  he  himself,  or  some 
grave  and  sentimental  subject,  is  treated  satiri- 
cally. "  Indeed  !''  rejoined  he  ;  "  what  shall  I 
do  ?  The  people  will  have  me  teach  the  chil- 
dren accounts,  and  your  reverence  will  not  per- 
mit it.    Whom  must  I  obey?" 

"  I  have  to  command  in  school  matters,"  said 
Stollbein,  "and  not  your  peasants  !" — and  with 
that  he  went  out  of  the  door. 

Stilling  immediately  ordered  all  the  slates  to 
be  taken  down,  and  laid  in  a  heap  behind  the 
stove,  under  the  seat.  He  was  obeyed  ;  every 
one,  however,  wrrote  his  own  name  upon  his 
slate,  with  his  pencil. 

After  school,  he  went  to  the  churchwarden, 
related  the  circumstance  to  him,  and  asked  his 
advice.  The  man  smiled,  and  said,  "Mr.  Stoll- 
bein has  probably  vented  his  ill-temper  ;  lay 
the  slates  aside,  so  that  he  may  not  see  them 
when  he  comes  again  ;  but  do  you  continue  as 
before  ;  the  children  must  learn  arithmetic." 
He  told  it  also  to  Krüger,  who  thought  the  evil 
one  possessed  him ;  and  according  to  his  opin- 
ion, the  girls  ought  to  learn  accounts— his  chil- 
dren, at  least,  should  now  begin.  This  accord- 
ingly took  place,  and  Stilling  was  even  obliged 
to  instruct  the  eldest  boys  in  geometry. 

Matters  continued  thus  during  the  summer; 
but  no  one  imagined  what  would  occur  in  the 
autumn.  A  fortnight  before  Martinmas,  the 
churchwardens  came  to  the  school,  and  an- 
nounced to  Stilling,  in  the  name  of  the  clergy- 
man, that  he  must  leave  the  school  at  Martin- 
mas, and  return  to  his  father.  This  was  a  clap 
of  thunder  to  the  schoolmaster  and  his  scholars ; 
they  all  wept  together.  Krüger  and  the  rest 
of  the  Zellbergers  were  almost  mad ;  they 
stamped  with  their  feet,  and  swore  that  the 
clergyman  should  not  deprive  them  of  their 
schoolmaster.  But  Wilhelm  Stilling,  however 
much  vexed  he  felt,  found  it  more  advisable  to 
take  back  his  son,  in  order  not  to  prevent  his 
future  good  fortune.  The  Sunday  afternoon 
before  Martinmas,  the  good  schoolmaster  put 
his  few  clothes  and  books  into  a  bag,  hung  it 
over  his  shoulder,  and,  leaving  Zellberg,  as- 
cended the  Heights  ;  his  scholars  followed  him 
in  troops,  weeping ;  he  himself  shed  floods  of 
tears,  and  bewailed  the  sweet  season  he  had 
spent  at  Zellberg.  The  whole  of  the  western 
heaven  presented  a  gloomy  appearance  ;  the 
sun  crept  behind  a  black  moutain  of  clouds,  and 
he  wandered  in  the  darkness  of  the  forest  down 
the  Giller. 

On  the  Monday  morning,  his  father  placed 


STILLING. 

him  again  in  his  old  corner,  at  the  needle. 
The  trade  of  a  taüor  was  now  doubly  disgusting 
to  him,  after  having  tasted  the  sweets  of  keep- 
ing school.  The  only  thing  that  still  gave  him 
pleasure,  was,  to  repair  his  old  sun-dials,  and 
relate  to  his  grandmother  the  excellencies  of 
Homer,  who  seemed  pleased  with  all  she  heard, 
and  even  relished  it — not  from  a  natural  feel- 
ing, but  because  she  remembered  that  her  dear 
Eberhard  had  been  a  great  admirer  of  such 
things. 


Heinrich  Stilling's  sufferings  now  assaulted 
him  in  all  their  violence  ;  he  firmly  believed  he 
was  not  born  to  be  a  tailor,  and  he  was  heartily 
ashamed  of  sitting  in  such  a  manner  at  his 
needle  ;  therefore  when  any  person  of  respecta- 
bility entered  the  room  he  blushed. 

Some  weeks  after  this,  uncle  Simon  was  met 
on  the  highway  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein.  On 
seeing  the  clergyman  on  horseback  at  a  dis- 
tance, he  laboured  with  all  his  might  to  get  his 
cart  and  oxen  out  of  the  road  into  the  field,  and 
placed  himself  near  the  oxen  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  until  Mr.  Stollbein  came  up. 

Stollbein. — "  Well,  what  is  your  brother-in- 
law's  son  doing?" 

Simon. — "  He  sits  at  the  table,  and  sews." 

Stollbein.—'1  That's  right !  I'll  have  it  so  !" 

Stollbein  rode  on,  and  Simon  continued  his 
way  home.  He  immediately  related  to  Wil- 
helm what  the  clergyman  had  said.  Heinrich 
heard  it  with  the  most  heartfelt  pain  ;  but  took 
courage  again,  when  he  saw  how  his  father 
threw  his  work  aside  in  a  rage,  and  said  pas- 
sionately, "And  I'll  have  him  keep  school  as 
soon  as  opportunity  offers  !"  Sirmn  rejoined, 
"  I  would  have  left  him  at  Zellberg ;  the  clergy- 
man might  have  been  conquered."  "  That 
might  have  been  done,"  replied  Wilhelm  ;  "  but 
then  I  should  have  made  him  always  my  enemy, 
and  have  lived  uncomfortably.  Suffering  is 
better  than  striving."  "  For  my  part,"  contin- 
ued Simon,  "  I  do  not  care  a  straw  for  him ; 
let  him  only  once  come  too  near  me !"  Wilhelm 
was  silent,  and  thought  it  was  easy  to  say  so  in 
the  room,  behind  the  stove. 

The  tedious  time  which  he  was  obliged  to 
devote  to  his  trade,  did  not,  on  this  occasion, 
Jast  long ;  for  a  fortnight  before  Christmas,  a 
letter  from  Dorlingen,  in  the  Westphalian  coun- 
ty of  Mark,  arrived  at  Stilling's  house  ; — a  rich 
man  of  the  name  of  Steifmann  dwelt  there, 
who  wished  to  have  young  Stilling  as  private 
tutor.  The  conditions  were,  that  Mr.  Stief- 
mann's  children  should  receive  instruction  from 
new-year  until  Easter,  for  which  he  would  give 
Stilling  board  and  lodging,  light  and  fire ;  he 
was  also  to  receive  five  rix-dollars  salary  ;  but 
for  this  he  would  have  to  instruct  as  many  of 
the  children  of  the  neighbouring  farmers  as 
they  would  send  him,  while  Mr.  Steifmann 
pocketed  the  money  for  their  schooling;  in  this 
manner,  he  had  his  own  children  educated  al- 
most for  nothing. 

Old  Margaret,  Wilhelm,  Elizabeth,  Maria,  and 
Heinrich,  now  conferred  together  respecting 
this  letter.  Margaret,  after  some  considera- 
tion, began  as  follows : — "  Wilhelm,  keep  the 
lad  with  thee ;  only  think,  it  is  no  joke  to  send 
a  child  to  such  a  distance!  There  will  be 
doubtless  some  situation  to  be  found  for  him 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


31 


here  in  the  neighbourhood."  "  That  is  true," 
said  Maria  ;  "  my  brother  Johann  often  says 
that  the  peasants  thereabouts  are  such  coarse 
people  ;  who  knows  what  they  will  do  to  the 
boy1  Keep  him  here,  Wilhelm!"  Elizabeth 
also  gave  her  vote  ;  but  she  thought  it  was  bet- 
ter that  Heinrich  should  try  to  make  his  way 
in  the  world  ;  if  she  had  to  command,  he  should 
go.  Wilhelm  at  length  concluded,  without  say- 
ing why,  that  if  Heinrich  had  a  mind  to  go,  he 
should  consent  to  it.  "  Yes,  indeed,  I  am  will- 
ing to  go,"  interrupted  he ;  "I  wish  I  was  al- 
ready there !"  Margaret  and  Maria  grew  sad 
and  were  silent.  Wilhelm,  therefore,  answered 
the  letter,  and  every  thing  was  agreed  to. 

Dorlingen  lay  nine  whole  leagues  from  Tiefen- 
bach. Perhaps  none  of  Stilling's  family  had,  for 
centuries,  wandered  so  far  away,  or  been  so 
long  absent.  For  some  days  before  Heinrich's 
departure,  all  the  family  wept  and  lamented  ;  he 
alone  was  inwardly  rejoiced.  Wilhelm  conceal- 
ed his  sorrow  as  much  as  he  could.  Margaret 
and  Maria  felt  too  deeply  that  he  was  a  Stilling ; 
hence  they  wept  the  most,  which  from  the  blind 
eyes  of  the  old  grandmother  had  a  pitiable  ap- 
pearance. 

The  last  morning  arrived,  and  all  were 
plunged  in  sorrow.  Wilhelm  usually  demean- 
ed himself  harshly  towards  him,  but  the  parting 
softened  him  so  much  the  more.  Heinrich  also 
shed  many  tears  ;  but  he  ran  and  wiped  them 
away.  At  Lichthausen,  he  called  upon  his  un- 
cle, Johann  Stilling,  who  gave  him  much  good 
advice.  The  carriers  now  came,  who  were  to 
take  him  with  them,  and  Heinrich  joyfully  set 
out  on  his  journey. 

That  part  of  the  country  through  which  he 
had  to  travel  looked  very  melancholy  at  this 
season  of  the  year.  It  made  an  impression 
upon  him  which  plunged  him  into  a  kind  of  de- 
spondency. "  If  Dorlingen  lies  in  such  a  coun- 
try as  this,"  thought  he,  continually,  "I  shall 
not  be  pleased  with  it."  The  carriers  with 
whom  he  travelled  were  at  home  there ; — he 
often  observed  how  they  went  behind  him  and 
ridiculed  him  ;  for  because  he  did  not  converse 
with  them,  and  looked  rather  bashful,  they  took 
him  for  a  simpleton,  with  whom  they  might  do 
what  they  would.  Sometimes  one  of  them 
pulled  him  behind,  and  when  he  turned  about 
they  pretended  to  be  transacting  matters  of  im- 
portance amongst  themselves.  Such  treatment 
was  enough  to  excite  his  anger :  he  bore  it  a 
few  times  ;  but  at  length  he  turned  about,  look- 
ed at  them  sharply,  and  said,  "  Hear  me,  good 
people  :  I  am  going  to  be  your  schoolmaster  at 
Dorlingen,  and  if  your  children  are  such  ill-bred 
creatures  as  I  suppose  them  to  be,  I  shall  know 
how  to  teach  them  other  manners ;  you  may 
tell  them  of  this  when  you  get  home  !"  The  car- 
riers looked  at  each  other,  and  merely  for  the 
sake  of  their  children  they  left  him  in  peace. 

Late  in  the  evening,  at  nine  o'clock,  he  ar- 
rived at  Dorlingen.  Steifmann  examined  him 
from  head  to  foot,  as  did  also  his  wife,  children, 
and  servants.  They  gave  him  something  to  eat, 
after  which  he  lay  down  to  sleep.  On  awaking 
early  in  the  morning,  he  was  much  terrified, 
for  he  saw  the  sun,  according  to  his  ideas,  rising 
in  the  west  ;  it  continued  to  ascend  towards  the 
north,  and  set  in  the  evening  in  the  east.  This 
he  could  not  at  all  comprehend ;  and  yet  he  un- 


derstood so  much  of  astronomy  and  geopraphy 
as  to  be  well  aware  that  the  Zellberg  and  Tief- 
enbach sun  must  be  the  same  as  shone  at  Dor- 
lingen. This  strange  circumstance  confused 
his  conceptions,  and  he  now  heartily  wished  he 
had  his  uncle  Johann's  compass,  in  order  to  see 
whether  the  needle  agreed  with  the  sun  in  de- 
ceiving him.  He  found,  indeed,  at  length,  the 
cause  of  this  phenomenon  ;  he  had  arrived  late 
the  evening  before,  and  had  not  observed  the 
gradual  winding  of  the  valley.  However,  he 
was  unable  to  master  his  imagination ;  every 
view  he  took  of  the  rude  and  desert  country 
around,  appeared  to  him,  for  this  reason,  gloomy 
and  terrific. 

Steifmann  was  rich ;  he  possessed  much 
wealth,  land,  oxen,  kine,  sheep,  goats,  and 
swine ;  and  besides  these,  a  steel- foundry,  in 
which  articles  were  manufactured  with  which 
he  carried  on  business.  At  that  time,  he  had 
only  his  second  wife ;  but  afterwards  he  mar- 
ried a  third,  or  perhaps  even  a  fourth ;  fortune 
favoured  him  so  much  that  he  was  able  to  take 
one  wife  after  another — at  least,  the  decease  of 
his  wives  and  marrying  again  seemed  to  afford 
him  peculiar  amusement.  His  present  wife  was 
a  good-natured  creature  ;  but  her  husband  often 
spoke  to  her  in  a  very  edifying  manner  of  the 
virtues  of  his  first  wife,  so  that  from  excessive 
and  heartfelt  feeling  she  wept  bitter  tears.  In 
other  respects,  he  was  not  at  all  irascible ;  he 
did  not  speak  much,  but  what  he  said  was 
weighty  and  emphatic,  because  it  generally  gave 
offence  to  some  one  present.  He  entered  into 
conversation  with  his  new  schoolmaster  at  first, 
but  he  did  not  please  him.  Of  all  that  Stilling 
was  accustomed  to  talk  about,  he  did  not  un- 
derstand a  word,  just  as  little  as  Stilling  com- 
prehended his  patron's  conversation.  They 
were  therefore  both  silent  when  together. 

The  following  Monday  morning,  the  school 
commenced.  Steifmann's  three  boys  made  the 
beginning  ;  in  a  short  time,  about  eighteen  tall, 
square-shouldered  lads  made  their  appearance, 
who,  compared  with  their  schoolmaster,  were 
like  so  many  Patagonians  compared  with  a 
Frenchman.  Ten  or  twelve  girls  of  much  the 
same  size  and  figure,  came  also  and  placed 
themselves  behind  the  table.  Stilling  scarcely 
knew  what  he  should  do  with  these  people.  He 
was  afraid  of  so  many  wild  faces ; — however, 
he  attempted  the  customary  method  used  in 
schools,  and  made  them  pray,  sing,  read,  and 
learn  the  catechism. 

Things  continued  their  ordinary  course  for 
about  a  fortnight ;  but  then  there  was  an  end 
of  it.  One  or  other  Cossack-like  lad  attempted 
to  banter  the  schoolmaster,  which  caused  Still- 
ing to  use  his  stick  faithfully,  but  with  such 
contrary  effect,  that  when  he  had  wearied  him- 
self with  thrashing  the  stout  shoulders  of  any 
of  the  scholars,  they  laughed  aloud,  whilst  the 
schoolmaster  wept.  Now  this  was  Mr.  Steif- 
mann's greatest  amusement ;  so  that  whenever 
he  heard  a  noise  in  the  school-room,  he  came, 
opened  the  door,  and  was  heartily  entertained. 

This  behaviour  gave  the  last  blow  to  Stilling. 
His  school  became  a  Polish  diet,  where  every 
one  did  what  he  pleased.  And  after  the  poor 
schoolmaster  had  endured  this  fiery  trial  in  the 
school,  he  had  not  a  happy  hour  even  out  of  it. 
Books  he  found  few,  except  a  large  Basle  Bible, 


32  HEINRICH 

the  wooden  cuts  of  which  he  studied  over  and 
over,  and  likewise  read  therein,  although  he 
had  frequently  read  it  through.  "  Zion's  Doc- 
trines and  Wonders,"  by  Dr.  Meli,  together  with 
some  old  volumes  of  sermons  and  hymn-books 
stood  on  a  shelf  in  the  clothes-room,  in  calm  re- 
pose, and  had  certainly  been  little  used  since 
Mr.  Steifmann  had  inherited  them.  In  the 
house  itself  no  one  was  kind  to  him.  All  look- 
ed upon  him  as  a  completely  foolish  boy,  for  he 
did  not  understand  their  vile,  ironically  obscene, 
and  ambiguous  speeches  ;  he  always  replied  in 
sincerity,  and,  as  he  thought,  according  to  the 
sense  of  the  words,  seeking  to  gain  every  one 
by  kindness  ;  and  this  was  exactly  the  way  to 
become  every  one's  shoe-black. 

However,  something  once  occurred  which 
might  easily  have  cost  him  his  life,  if  the  kind 
Father  of  men  had  not  peculiarly  preserved  him. 
He  was  obliged  to  light  the  fire  himself  in  the 
morning,  in  his  stove  ;  on  one  occasion,  finding 
no  wood,  he  wished  to  fetch  some.  Now  there 
was  over  the  kitchen  a  smoke-room,  where  meat 
was  smoked,  and  the  wood  dried  at  the  same 
time.  The  thrashing-floor  adjoined  the  kitchen, 
and  from  thence  there  were  steps  up  into  the 
smoke-room.  Six  day-labourers  were  just  then 
engaged  in  thrashing.  Heinrich  ran  up  the 
steps,  and  opened  the  door,  from  which  a  thick 
cloud  of  smoke  burst  forth ;  he  left  the  door 
open,  made  a  spring  towards  the  wood,  and 
caught  hold  of  a  few  pieces.  Meanwhile,  one 
of  the  thrashers  fastened  the  door  on  the  out- 
side ;  poor  Stilling  fell  into  an  agony, — the 
smoke  stifled  him, — it  was  dark  as  midnight, — 
he  became  confused,  and  knew  no  longer  where 
the  door  was.  In  this  dreadful  situation,  he 
made  a  spring  against  the  wall,  and  hit  just 
against  the  door,  so  that  the  fastening  broke, 
and  the  door  sprang  open.  Stilling  fell  down 
the  steps  upon  the  floor,  where  he  lay  stretched 
out,  stupified  and  insensible.  On  coming  again 
to  himself,  he  found  himself  surrounded  by  the 
thrashers,  who  with  Mr.  Steifmann  were  laugh- 
ing aloud.    "  It  was  enough  to  make  the  d  

laugh,"  said  Steifmann.  This  went  through 
Stilling's  soul.  "  Yes,"  answered  he,  "  he 
laughs  in  reality  at  having  at  length  found  one 
of  his  like."  This  pleased  his  patron  extreme- 
ly, and  he  was  wont  to  say  it  was  the  first  and 
last  clever  speech  he  had  heard  from  his  school- 
master. 

However,  the  best  of  the  matter  was,  that 
Stilling  sustained  no  injury  ;  he  gave  himself  en- 
tirely up  to  grief,  wept  till  his  eyes  were  red, 
and  gained  nothing  by  it  but  contempt.  Thus 
mournfully  passed  his  time  ;  and  his  pleasure 
in  keeping  school  was  dreadfully  embittered. 

His  father,  Wilhelm  Stilling,  was  meanwhile 
occupied  at  home  with  more  agreeable  matters. 
The  wound  occasioned  by  the  decease  of  Doris 
was  healed  ;  he  always  remembered  her  with 
tenderness,  yet  he  lamented  her  no  more  ;  she 
had  been  dead  now  fourteen  years,  and  his  se- 
vere mystic  mode  of  thinking  softened  itself  so 
far  that  he  cultivated  acquaintance  with  every 
one  ;  all  was  however  mingled  with  friendly 
gravity,  the  fear  of  God,  and  uprightness;  so 
that  he  grew  more  like  father  Stilling  than  any 
other  of  his  children.  He  now  wished  to  be- 
come the  father  of  a  family,  to  have  his  own 
house  and  garden,  and  to  carry  on  farming  to- 


STILLING. 

gether  with  his  trade  ;  he  therefore  sought  out 
a  wife  for  himself,  who,  with  the  necessary 
qualities  of  body  and  soul,  had  also  house  and 
land ;  and  he  soon  found  what  he  sought.  At 
Leindorf,  two  leagues  westward  of  Tiefenbach, 
there  was  a  widow  of  twenty-eight  years  of  age, 
an  honest  good-looking  woman ;  she  had  two 
children  by  her  first  marriage,  one  of  whom, 
however,  died  soon  after  her  nuptials.  This 
person  was  very  glad  of  Wilhelm's  addresses, 
although  he  had  lame  feet.  The  marriage  was 
agreed  upon,  the  wedding-day  fixed,  and  Hein- 
rich received  a  letter  at  Dorlingen,  which,  in 
the  warmest  and  tenderest  expressions  which  a 
father  can  possibly  employ  towards  his  son, 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  affair,  and  in- 
vited him,  on  the  day  appointed,  to  the  wedding. 
Heinrich  read  this  letter,  laid  it  down,  rose  up, 
and  reflected  within  himself ;  it  required  him 
deeply  to  examine,  first,  before  he  could  ascer- 
tain whether  he  was  pleased  or  grieved  at  it, 
such  entirely  different  emotions  arose  in  his 
mind.  At  length,  after  walking  a  few  paces,  he 
said  to  himself,  "  My  mother  is  in  heaven  ;  let 
this  one,  meanwhile,  take  her  place  in  this  vale 
of  tears,  with  me  and  my  father.  Eventually,  I 
shall  forsake  the  latter,  and  seek  the  former. 
My  father  does  well ;  I  will  be  very  fond  of  her, 
and  do  all  she  wishes,  as  well  as  I  am  able ;  she 
will  then  love  me  in  return,  and  I  shall  rejoice." 

He  now  made  Steifmann  acquainted  with  the 
matter,  requested  some  money,  and  travelled 
back  to  Tiefenbach.  He  was  received  there 
most  joyfully  by  all,  particularly  by  Wilhelm, 
who  had  been  a  little  dubious  whether  his  son 
would  not  complain ;  but  when  he  saw  him 
coming  so  cheerfully,  the  tears  flowed  from  his 
eyes,  he  sprang  towards  him,  and  said, 

"Welcome,  Heinrich  !" 

Heinrich. — "  Welcome,  father  !  I  heartily 
wish  you  happiness  in  what  you  have  in  view, 
and  I  rejoice  much  that  you  can  now  have  con- 
solation in  your  old  age,  if  it  pleases  God." 

Wilhelm  sank  down  upon  a  chair,  held  botk 
his  hands  before  his  face,  and  wept.  Heinrick 
wept  also.  At  length  Wilhelm  began  as  fol- 
lows :  "Thou  knowest,  that  while  I  was  a 
widower  I  laid  by  five  hundred  rix-dollars ;  I  am 
now  forty  years  old,  and  I  should,  perhaps,  have 
been  able  to  save  much  more ;  thou  wilt  be  de- 
prived of  all  this,  of  which  thou  wouldst  other- 
wise have  been  the  sole  heir." 

Heinrich. — "  Father,  I  may  die — you  may  die 
— we  may  both  live  a  long  time  ;  you  may  be 
sickly,  and  not  even  be  able  to  subsist  on  your 
money.  But,  father,  does  my  new  mother  re- 
semble my  late  mother'?" 

Wilhelm  again  held  his  hands  before  his  eyes. 
"  No,"  said  he  ;  "  but  she  is  a  worthy  woman." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Heinrich ;  and  stood 
at  the  window  to  review,  once  more,  his  old 
romantic  country  scenery.  There  was  no  snow 
upon  the  ground.  The  prospect  of  the  neigh- 
bouring forest  appeared  so  pleasant  to  him,  that 
although  it  was  in  the  latter  end  of  February, 
he  resolved  to  walk  thither ;  he  therefore  went 
up  the  hill,  and  into  the  wood.  After  he  had 
wandered  about  a  while,  he  felt  so  comfortable 
within,  that  he  forgot  the  whole  world,  and,  lost 
in  thought,  walked  forwards  until  he  impercep- 
tibly arrived  at  the  west  side  of  Geis^nberg  cas- 
tle.   He  already  saw,  between  the  trunks  of 


STIL  LING'S  YO 


UTHFUL  YEARS. 


33 


the  trees,  the  ruined  walls  lying  upon  the  hill. 
This  surprised  him  a  little.  Something  now 
rustled  in  a  hush  on  one  side  ;  he  looked,  and 
saw  an  agreeahle-looking  female  standing  there, 
pale,  hut  of  a  delicate  countenance,  and  clothed 
in  linen  and  cotton.  He  shuddered,  and  his 
heart  heat.  As  it  was  still  hy  no  means  late  in 
the  day,  he  was  not  afraid,  hut  asked,  "  Where 
are  you  from  1"  She  answered,  "  From  Tiefen- 
bach." This  seemed  strange  to  him,  for  he  did 
not  know  her.  "What  is  your  name  V  "Doris" 
Stilling  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and  sank  upon  the 
ground  in  a  fit.  The  good  girl  knew  not  what 
to  think  of  the  circumstance,  for  she  was  like 
wise  unacquainted  with  the  youth,  having  come 
to  Tiefenhaeh  only  at.  new  year,  as  a  maid- 
servant. She  ran  to  him,  knelt  down  hy  him 
upon  the  ground,  and  wept.  She  was  much 
surprised  at  the  young  man,  particularly  because 
he  had  such  soft  hands  and  so  white  a  face  ; 
his  clothes  were  also  a  little  cleaner  and  neater, 
as  well  as  a  little  better,  than  those  of  oiher 
lads.  The  stranger  pleased  her.  Meanwhile, 
Stilling  came  again  to  himself ;  he  saw  the 
female  close  to  him,  raised  himself,  regarded 
her  with  a  fixed  look,  and  said  to  her  tenderly, 
"  What  are  you  doing  here  1"  She  answered  in 
a  very  friendly  manner,  "I  am  gathering  dry 
wood ;  where  are  you  from  V'  He  replied 
"I  am  also  from  Tiefenbach — Wilhelm  Selling's 
son."  He  now  heard  that  she  had  only  been 
there  since  new-year,  as  maid-servant,  and  she 
listened  to  the  statement  of  his  circumstances  ; 
both  were  grieved  at  being  obliged  to  part. 
Stilling  walked  to  the  castle,  and  she  gathered 
firewood.  Nearly  two  years  elapsed  before  the 
image  of  this  girl  was  obliterated  from  his  heart, 
so  firmly  had  it  impressed  itself  upon  him. 
When  the  sun  was  about  to  set,  he  returned 
home,  but  related  nothing  of  what  had  happen- 
ed— not  so  much  from  love  of  secrecy,  as  from 
other  reasons. 

The  next  day  he  went  with  his  father  and 
other  friends  to  Leindorf  to  the  wedding  ;  his 
mother-in-law  received  him  with  all  tenderness  ; 
he  became  fond  of  her,  and  she  loved  him  in 
return;  at  which  Wilhelm  was  heartily  pleased. 
He  now  informed  his  parents  how  painfully  it 
tared  with  him  at  Dorlingen.  The  mother's  ad- 
vice was,  that  he  should  remain  at  home,  and 
not  go  again  ;  but  Wilhelm  said,  "  We  have  al- 
ways kept  our  word  hitherto,  and  thou  must  not 
be  wanting ;  if  other  people  do  not  do  so,  they 
must  answer  for  it ;  but  thou  must  continue  thy 
time."  Nor  was  Stilling  much  opposed  to  this, 
but  set  off  again  the  next  morning  for  Dorlin- 
gen." His  scholars  however  did  not  return  ; 
.spring  approached,  and  every  one  betook  him- 
self to  the  field.  As  he  had  now  nothing  to  do, 
contemptible  offices  were  assigned  him,  so  that 
his  daily  bread  was  rendered  very  bitter. 

Previous  to  his  departure  before  Easter,  Steif- 
mann's  servant-men  resolved  to  make  him  very 
drunk,  that  so  they  might  make  themselves 
merry  at  his  expence.  On  coming  out  of  church, 
•on  the  Sunday,  they  said  to  one  another,  "  Let. 
us  warm  ourselves  a  little,  hefore  we  set  out," — 
for  it  was  cold,  and  they  had  a  league  to  walk. 
Now  Stilling  was  accustomed  to  go  home  in 
company  ;  he  therefore  went  in  with  them,  and 
sat  down  hy  the  stove.  They  then  began  to 
drink  spirits,  which  were  sweetened  with  a  kind 


of  syrup,  and  the  schoolmaster  was  obliged  to 
drink  with  them.  He  soon  perceived  their  in- 
tentions ;  and  therefore  after  taking  a  mouthful, 
he  ejected  it  again,  unobserved,  behind  the 
stove,  into  the  coalscuttle.  Hence  the  men 
were  intoxicated  first,  and  they  no  longer  paid 
attention  to  the  schoolmaster,  but  became  com- 
pletely fuddled  ;  under  these  circumstances, 
they  at  length  sought  a  quarrel  with  Stilling,  and 
he  escaped  with  difficulty  out  of  their  hands. 
He  paid  his  proportion  of  the  charge,  and  went 
away  privately.  On  reaching  home,  he  related 
the  circumstance  to  Mr.  Steifmann,  who  only 
laughed  at  it ;  it  was  obvious  that  he  lamented 
the  bad  success  of  the  attempt.  The  men-ser- 
vants were  afterwards  quite  in  a  rage,  and 
sought  every  opportunity  of  revenging  them- 
selves ;  but  God  preserved  him.  Only  two  days 
before  his  departure,  a  peasant's  son  from  the 
village  met  him  in  the  fields,  who  had  also  been 
present  at  the  drinking-bout ;  the  latter  seized 
him  by  the  head,  and  wrestled  with  him  in  or- 
der to  threw  him  to  the  ground  ;  fortunately 
there  was  an  old  man  near  in  a  garden,  who 
came  up,  and  asked  what  the  schoolmaster  had 
done  to  him.  The  lad  replied,  "  He  has  done 
nothing  to  me  ;  I  will  only  give  him  a  box  or 
two  on  the  ear."  But  the  old  peasant  laid  hold 
of  him,  and  said  to  Stilling,  "  Do  you  go  home  !" 
He  then  gave  the  other  a  violent  blow  on  the 
mouth,  and  added,  "  Now,  thou  go  home  also, — 
I  only  did  it  for  a  joke." 

On  Easter-Monday,  Stilling  took  his  leave  of 
Dorlingen,  and  arrived  again  in  the  evening  at 
the  house  of  his  parents  at  Leindorf. 

He  was  now  so  far  in  his  element  again  ;  he 
was  indeed  obliged  to  labour  hard  at  his  trade, 
yet  still  he  again  found  opportunity  of  obtaining 
books.  The  first  Sunday  he  went  to  Zellberg, 
and  fetched  Homer ;  and  wherever  else  he 
knew  of  any  thing  which  in  his  estimation  was 
beautiful  to  read,  he  brought  it  horre,  so  that  in 
a  short  time  the  board  above  the  windows, 
where  previously  all  kinds  of  implements  had 
stood,  was  entirely  filled  with  books.  Wilhelm 
was  accustomed  to  this,  and  was  glad  to  see  it ; 
hut  they  were  sometimes  in  his  wife's  way,  so 
that  she  said  to  him,  "  Heinrich,  what  art  thou 
doing  with  all  these  books'?"  He  read  also  on 
the  Sunday,  and  during  meal-times  ;  his  mother- 
in-law  then  often  shook  her  head,  and  said, 
"What  a  strange  lad  he  is!"  whilst  Wilhelm 
smiled,  in  Stilling's  manner,  and  said,  "  Greta, 
do  not  hinder  him." 

After  a  few  weeks  had  elapsed,  the  most  ar- 
duous part  of  agricultural  labour  commenced. 
Wilhelm  was  obliged  to  make  use  of  his  son  for 
this  purpose  also,  or  else  engage  a  day  laborer 
in  his  place,  with  which  his  wife  would  not  have 
been  satisfied.  This  period,  however,  was  the 
beginning  of  Stilling's  grevious  sufferings: 
he  possessed,  it  is  true,  common  stature  and 
strength  ;  hut  he  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
so  severe  labour,  nor  were  his  limbs  suited  for 
such  employment.  As  soon  as  he  began  to  hoe 
or  mow,  all  his  limbs  bent  to  the  implement  he 
was  using,  as  though  they  would  break  ;  he  of- 
ten thought  he  should  sink  down  from  weariness 
and  pain.  But  all  availed  not;  Wilhelm  feared 
vexation  at  home,  and  his  wife  always  believed 
he  would  gradually  accustom  himself  to  it.  This 
mode  of  life  at  length  became  intolerable  to  hiin, 


34  HEINRICH 

and  he  rejoiced  when  he  could  sometimes  sit  at 
his  needle  on  a  rainy  day,  and  refresh  his  weary 
limhs ;  he  sighed  bpneath  this  yoke,  often 
walked  alone,  wept  the  hitterest  tears,  and  be- 
sought his  heavenly  Father  to  pity  and  change 
his  condition. 

Wilhelm  secretly  suffered  with  him.  When 
he  came  home  in  the  evening  with  his  hands 
swollen  and  full  of  blisters,  and  trembling  from 
fatigue,  his  father  sighed,  and  both  longed  most 
fervently  for  his  being  again  employed  as  school- 
master. This  at  length  occurred,  after  a  very 
painful  and  wearisome  summer.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  Leindorf,  where  Wilhelm  dwelt,  appoint- 
ed him  their  schoolmaster  at  Michaelmas,  1756. 
Stilling  accepted  this  vocation  with  joy  ;  he  was 
now  happy,  and  entered  upon  his  office  with  his 
seventeenth  year.  He  dined  with  his  peasant- 
ry by  turns  ;  but  before  and  after  school,  he  was 
obliged  to  assist  his  father  at  his  trade.  Thus 
there  was  no  time  left  him  for  studying,  except 
when  he  was  in  the  school  •  and  that  was  not 
the  place  to  read  himself,  but  to  instruct  others. 
However,  he  stole  many  an  hour  which  he  de- 
voted to  mathematics  and  other  scientific  pur- 
suits. Wilhelm  perceiving  this,  took  him  to 
task  for  it,  and  asked  him  how  he  could  do  it 
conscientiously. 

Stilling,  with  heartfelt  grief, replied,  "Father, 
my  whole  soul  is  directed  to  study  ;  I  cannot 
restrain  my  inclination  ;  give  me  time  before 
and  after  school-hours,  and  I  will  not  take  a 
book  into  the  school."  Wilhelm  rejoined,  "  It 
is  a  lamentable  thing  !  All  that  thou  learnest 
yields  thee  neither  bread  nor  clothes,  and  for  all 
that  could  maintain  thee  thou  art  unfit." 

Stilling  himself  lamented  his  condition  ;  for 
keeping  school  was  likewise  burdensome  to  him, 
if  he  had  with  it  no  time  for  reading  ;  he  therefore 
longed  to  be  away  from  his  father,  and  to  be  in 
some  other  place. 

The  people,  however,  at  Leindorf,  were  pret- 
ty well  satisfied  with  him,  although  their  chil- 
dren might  have  learned  more  in  the  time;  for 
his  conduct  and  deportment  towards  the  children 
pleased  them.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Dahlheim  also,  to 
whose  parish  Leindorf  belonged,  a  man  who  was 
an  honour  to  his  office,  was  fond  of  him.  Stilling 
was  astonished  above  measure,  the  first  time  he 
entered  the  room  of  this  excellent  man  ; — he 
was  an  old  man  of  eighty  years  of  age,  and  was 
lying  upon  a  couch :  as  he  entered  the  door,  he  im- 
mediately arose,  offered  him  his  hand,  and  said, 
"  Do  not  take  it  amiss,  schoolmaster,  that  you 
find  me  reposing ;  I  am  old,  and  my  powers 
fail."  Stilling  was  penetrated  with  reverence, 
and  the  tears  flowed  down  his  cheeks.  He  re- 
plied, "  Sir,  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  keep 
school  under  your  superintendence.  God  grant 
you  much  joy  and  blessing  in  your  old  age  !" 
"  1  thank  you,  dear  schoolmaster,"  replied  the 
worthy  old  man,  "I  am,  thank  God,  near  the 
end  of  my  course,  and  I  heartily  rejoice  at  the 
prospect  of  my  great  Sabbath."  Stilling  went 
home,  and  on  the  road  he  made  the  peculiar  re- 
mark, that  either  Mr.  Dahlheim  must  be  an  apos- 
tle or  Mr.  Stollbein  a  priest  of  Baal. 

Mr.  Dahlheim  sometimes  visited  the  Leindorf 
school,  and  though  he  might  not  find  every 
thing  in  due  order,  yet  he  did  not  break  out  into 
a  passrjun  like  Mr.  Stollbein,  but  admonished 
Stilling  very  kindly,  to  alter  any  particular 


STILLING 

thing  ;  and  this  had  the  best  effect  on  a  mind 
so  susceptible.  This  treatment  of  the  clergy- 
man's was  really  surprising  ;  for  he  was  a  pas- 
sionate and  violent  man,  but  his  anger  mani- 
fested itself  solely  against  vice,  and  not  against 
failings ;  he  was,  at  the  same  time,  not  at  all 
ambitious  of  ruling.  In  order  to  portray  this 
man's  character  to  my  readers,  I  will  relate  a 
circumstance  which  occurred  to  him  when  he 

was  court-chaplain  to  the  Prince  of  R  

This  prince  had  an  excellent  consort,  and  by  her 
several  princesses  ;  he  notwithstanding  fell  in 
love  with  a  tradesman's  daughter  in  his  capital, 
with  whom  he  spent  whole  nights,  to  the  great 
grief  of  the  princess.  Dahlheim  could  not  suffer 
this  to  pass  unnoticed.  He  began  to  preach 
against  it  covertly  from  the  pulpit;  the  prince 
however  was  well  aware  what  the  chaplain  was 
aiming  at. ;  he  therefore  no  longer  went  to 
church,  but  drove,  during  the  time,  to  his  coun- 
try residence,  at  the  Menagerie.  Dahlheim 
was  once  just  entering  the  church  in  order  to 
preach,  when  he  met  the  prince  upon  the  spot, 
as  he  was  on  the  point  of  getting  into  his  car- 
riage. The  chaplain  stepped  up  to  him,  and: 
said,  "  Whither  does  your  highness  intend  to 
go?"  "What  is  that  to  thee,  parson?"  Was 
the  reply.  "  Very  much,"  rejoined  Dahlheim  ; 
and  went  into  the  church,  where  he  attacked, 
in  plain  terms,  the  excesses  of  the  great  men  of 
this  world,  and  pronounced  one  woe  after  anoth- 
er upon  them.  The  princess  was  at  church, 
and  sent  to  invite  him  to  dinner  ;  he  came,  and 
she  lamented  his  boldness,  being  apprehensive 
of  evil  consequences.  Meanwhile  the  prince 
returned  ;  but  drove  immediately  again  into  the 
town  to  his  mistress,  who  unfortunately  had 
also  been  at  church,  and  heard  Mr.  Dahlheim. 
The  chaplain  as  well  as  the  princess  had  seen 
her  there,  and  they  could  therefore  easily  fore* 
see  the  storm  which  hovered  over  the  head  of 
Mr.  Dahlheim.  The  latter  however  was  en- 
tirely unconcerned  about  it,  and  told  the  prin- 
cess that  he  would  go  instantly,  and  tell  the 
prince  the  truth  to  his  face.  He  would  take 
no  warning,  but  went  directly  into  the  prince's 
apartment.  On  entering,  the  latter  started,  and 
asked  him  what  business  he  had  there.  Dahl- 
heim replied,  "I  am  come  to  lay  before  your 
Highness  blessing  and  curse.  If  your  Highness 
will  not  renounce  this  unbecoming  course  of  life, 
the  curse  will,  fall  upon  your  noble  house  and  fam- 
ily, and  your  city  and  country  strangers  shall  in- 
herit." On  which  he  went,  away,  and  the  day 
following  he  was  dismissed  from  his  office,  and 
banished  the  country.  However,  the  prince 
had  no  rest  after  doing  so,  but  honourably  re- 
called him  at  the  end  of  two  years,  and  gave 
him  the  best  living  he  had  in  his  territory. 
Dahlheim's  prediction  was  nevertheless  fulfilled. 
For  more  than  forty  years,  there  has  not  been 
a  single  branch  left  of  this  princely  house.  But 
I  return  to  my  narrative. 

Stilling,  with  all  his  good  nature,  could  net 
prevent  some  people  from  thinking  he  read  too 
many  books  in  the  school ;  there  was  a  mur- 
mur in  the  village,  and  many  supposed  that  the 
children  were  neglected.  The  people  were  not 
entirely  in  the  wrong,  but  yet  not  Quite  in  the 
right ;  for  he  still  took  pretty  good  care  tliat  hia 
object  in  being  there  was  attained.  It  appear 
ed  indeed  strange  to  the  boors,  to  see  such  uiv 


STILLING'S  YOU 


THFUL  YEARS. 


35 


heard-of  figures  in  the  school-windows,  as  his 
sun-dials  were.  Two  or  more  of  them  often 
stood 'still  in  the  street,  and  saw  him  at  the  win- 
dow, looking  through  a  piece  of  glass  at  the  sun  , 
then  said  one  of  them,  "The  fellow  is  not  right 
in  his  head  !" — the  other  imagined  he  was  con- 
sidering the  course  of  the  heavens  ;  but  both 
were  greatly  mistaken  ; — Ihey  were  only  pieces 
of  the  broken  feet  of  spirit-glasses,  which  he 
held  before  his  eye,  and  contemplated  in  the 
sunshine  the  glorious  colours,  in  their  various 
forms,  which  pleased  him  extremely,  and  not 
without  reason. 

This  year  therefore  proceeded  on  its  course 
as  above  described.  Working  at  his  trade, 
keeping  school,  and  stolen  hours  for  reading,  had 
alternately  succeeded  each  other;  until  a  short 
time  before  Michaelmas,  as  he  had  just  entered 
his  eighteenth  year,  he  received  a  letter  from 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Goldrnann,  who  offered  him  a  good 
school,  attached  to  a  chapel  at  Preisingen. 
This  village  lies  two  leagues  southwards  of 
Leindorf,  in  a  charming  broad  valley.  Stilling 
was  so  delighted  with  this  letter,  that  he  could 
scarcely  contain  himself ;  and  his  father  and 
mother  also  lejoiced  beyond  measure.  Stilling 
thanked  Mr.  Goldrnann  by  letter  for  this  excel- 
lent recommendation,  and  promised  that  he 
should  have  joy  of  him. 

This  preacher  was  a  distant  relation  of  the 
departed  Doris,  and  consequently  also  of  young 
Stilling.  This  reason,  as  well  as  the  general 
reputation  of  his  uncommon  gifts,  had  induced 
the  worthy  clergyman  to  propose  him  to  the 
congregation  at  Preisingen.  He  proceeded 
therefore,  at  Michaelmas,  to  his  new  destina- 
tion. After  ascending  the  hill,  and  on  seeing 
before  him  the  beautiful  valley  with  its  broad 
and  verdant  meadows,  and  on  the  opposite  side 
a  range  of  green  hills  covered  with  woods  and 
fields,  whilst  in  the  midst  of  the  plain  lay  the 
village  of  Preisingen,  in  a  compressed  circle, 
the  green  fruit  trees  and  the  white  houses  be- 
tween, presenting  a  pleasing  appearance  ;  exact- 
ly in  the  midst  of  which  rose  the  chapel  turret, 
covered  and  clothed  with  blue  slate  ;  and  be- 
yond all  the  rest,  the  little  rivulet  Sal,  behind 
the  village,  glittering  in  the  rays  of  the  sun — he 
was  deeply  affected,  sat  down  a  while  upon  the 
grass,  and  delighted  himself  with  the  charming 
prospect.  Here  he  first  began  to  attempt  versifi- 
cation ;  he  succeeded  pretty  well  in  it,  for  he 
had  a  natural  talent  that  way.  I  have  sought 
for  the  piece  among  his  papers,  but  was  unable 
to  find  it. 

He  now  resolved  firmly  and  irrevocably  to 
apply  himself  to  teaching  with  diligence  and 
zeal,  and  devote  the  rest  of  the  time  to  making 
progress  in  his  mathematical  studies.  After  he 
had  concluded  this  covenant  with  himself,  he 
rose  up,  and  finished  his  walk  to  Preisingen. 

His  lodging  was  fixed  for  him  at  a  rich  and 
respectable  widow's,  who  was,  at  the  same 
time,  immoderately  corpulent.  She  was  called 
Madame  Schmoll,  and  had  two  handsome  mod- 
est daughters  ;  the  name  of  the  eldest  was 
Maria,  who  was  twenty  years  of  age,  and  of  t  he 
other  Anna,  who  was  eighteen.  Both  the  girls 
were  re.illv  good  creatures,  as  well  as  their 
mother.  They  lived  together  like  angels,  in  the 
most  perfect  harmony <  and  so  to  speak,  in  a  su- 
perabundance of  joys  and  pleasures,  for  they 


I  wanted  for  nothing  ;  and  of  this  they  knew  how 
I  to  take  advantage;  hence  they  passed  their 
time,  after  attending  to  their  household  affairs, 
in  singing,  and  a  variety  of  other  allowable  re- 
creations. Stilling,  it  is  true,  loved  pleasure 
also ;  but  such  inactivity  of  the  human  spirit 
was  so  repugnant  to  him  that  he  could  not  con- 
ceive bow  the  people  did  not  become  weary  of 
it.  However,  he  found  himself  very  comforta- 
ble in  their  society  ;  and  when  he  had  occasion- 
ally fatigued  himself  with  study  and  business, 
it  was  a  sweet  recreation  for  him  to  associate 
with  them. 

Stilling  had  hitherto  never  thought  of  love ; 
this  passion  and  marriage  were,  in  his  eyes, 
one ;  and  the  one  without  the  other  an  abomi- 
nation. Now  as  he  knew  for  a  certainty  that 
he  could  not  marry  either  of  the  Misses  Schmoll, 
since  they  would  not  be  permitted  to  take  either 
a  tailor  or  a  school- master,  he  consequently  sup- 
pressed every  feeling  of  love  which  would  of- 
ten have  sprung  up  in  his  heart,  particularly  for 
Maria.  But  what  do  I  talk  of  suppressing  !— 
who  can  do  it  in  his  own  strength  1  It  was 
Stirling's  angel  that  guided  him,  who  turned 
aside  the  arrows  which  were  shot  at  him.  The 
two  sisters  thought,  however,  very  differently ; 
— the  schoolmaster  pleased  them  heartily  ;  he 
was  in  his  first  bloom,  and  full  of  fire  and  feel- 
ing ;  for  although  he  was  serious  and  quiet,  yet 
there  were  moments  in  which  his  light  shone 
forth  from  every  corner  of  his  heart ;  Iiis  spirit 
then  enlarged,  he  overflowed  with  social  and 
cheerful  delight,  and  then  it  was  good  to  be  in 
his  company.  But  there  are  few  spirits  which 
are  susceptible  of  this  ;  it  is  something  so  spir- 
itual and  sublime,  and  so  remote  from  rude  and 
noisy  pleasure,  that  very  few  comprehend  what 
I  mean  by  it.  Madame  Schmoll  and  her  daugh- 
ters, however,  were  conscious  of  it,  and  felt  it 
in  all  its  power.  Others  of  the  common  sort 
often  sat  and  listened ;  the  one  exclaimed, 
M  Paul,  thou  art  beside  thyself;"  another  sat  in 
mute  astonishment ;  and  the  third  believed  he 
was  half-witted.  The  two  girls,  meanwhile, 
reposed  in  some  dark  corner,  where  they  could 
contemplate  him  undisturbed  ;  they  were  silent, 
and  fixed  their  eyes  upon  him.  Stilling  per- 
ceived this  with  deep  sympathy  ;  however,  he 
was  firmly  resolved  to  give  no  occasion  for  a 
further  expression  of  love.  They  were  both 
modest  and  bashful,  and  consequently  far  from 
revealing  themselves  to  him.  Madame  Schmoll, 
meanwhile,  sat  playing  with  her  black  paper 
snuff-box  in  her  lap,  and  reflected  as  to  what 
class  of  men  the  schoolmaster  properly  belong- 
ed ;  he  was  good  and  gentle  in  her  eyes,  and 
besides  that,  truly  devout  ;  but  as  he  spoke  of 
any  thing  ^Ise  but  things  by  which  he.  might 
earn  his  bread,  she  often  said,  as  he  left  the 
room,  "  Poor  rogue,  what  will  become  of  him  V 
'■  It  is  impossible  to  say,"  rejoined  Maria 
44  sometimes  I  believe  he  will  yet  be  a  respecta- 
ble man  in  the  world."  The  mother  laughed, 
and  often  replied,  "  God  grant  it  may  go  well 
with  him  ! — he  is  an  excellent  youth  !"  which 
was  enough  immediately  to  animate  her  dau^h- 
ters.  ° 

I  am  able  to  affirm  that  StHling  attended  to 
his  school  at  Preisingen,  according  to  duty  and 
order;  he  sought,  with  his  more  mature  vears 
and  views,  to  estabi.sh  his  reputation  in  the  in- 


36 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


struciion  of  youth.  However,  it  was  to  be  la- 
mented that  it  did  not  proceed  from  natural  in- 
clination. If  he  mi.^lit  have  applied  only  eight 
hours  of  the  day  to  the  tailor's  trade,  as  well  as 
to  keeping  school,  tie  certainly  would  have 
rather  continued  at  his  needle ;  for  it  was  a 
more  quiet  occupation,  and  not  subject  to  so 
much  responsibility.  In  order  to  make  the 
school  more  agreeable,  he  thought  of  a  variety 
of  means,  how  he  might  with  the  less  trouble 
excite  his  scholars  to  learn.  He  introduced  an 
order  of  rank,  w  hich  had  reference  to  greater 
ability  ;  he  invented  all  kinds  of  prizes  for  writ- 
ing, reading,  and  spelling  ;  and  as  he  was  a 
great  lover  of  singing  and  music,  he  collected 
a  number  of  pretty  hymns,  learned  the  notes 
himself  with  little  difficulty,  and  introduced 
singing  in  four  parts.  All  Preisingen  thus  be- 
came full  of  life  and  song.  In  the  evening,  be- 
fore supper,  he  gave  a  lesson  in  arithmetic,  and 
after  it,  in  singing;  and  when  the  moon  glisten- 
ed so  tranquilly  and  solemnly  through  the  trees, 
and  the  stars  glanced  down  from  the  azure  sky, 
he  went  out  with  his  singers  to  the  Preisingen 
hill ;  there  they  sat  down  in  the  shade,  and 
sang,  so  that  hill  and  valley  resounded.  Hus- 
band, wife,  and  children  in  the  village  then  went 
out  before  the  door,  stood,  and  listened  ;  they 
blessed  their  schoolmaster,  went  in  again,  gave 
each  other  the  hand,  and  lay  down  to  sleep.  He 
often  went  with  his  retinue  into  the  orchard  be- 
hind Madame  Schmoll's  house,  and  there  they 
6ang  softly  and  gently,  either,  "  0  pleasure 
sweet  !"  or,  "  Jesus  is  my  heart's  delight,"  or, 
44  The  night  is  at  the  door,"  and  other  beautiful 
hymns  of  the  kind  ;  the  two  girls  then  went  up 
into  their  chamber  without  a  light,  sat  down, 
and  lost  themselves  in  emotion.  He  often 
found  them  sitting  thus,  when  he  came  home 
and  retired  to  rest,  for  all  the  rooms  of  the 
house  were  in  common — the  schoolmaster  had 
free  admittance  every  where.  No  one  was  less 
careful  of  her  daughters  than  Madame  Schmoll ; 
and  it  was  fortunate  for  her  that  she  did  not 
need  to  be  otherwise.  When  he  thus  found 
Maria  and  Anna  with  closed  eyes,  in  a  dark 
corner,  it  went  through  his  heart ;  he  took  them 
by  the  hand,  and  said,  41  How  do  you  feel,  Ma- 
ria !*'  She  then  sighed  deeply,  pressed  his 
hand,  and  said,  "Your  singing  delights  me!" 
He  then  frequently  responded,  "  Let  us  be  de- 
vout, my  dear  girls  ! — in  heaven  we  shall  learn 
to  sing  properly  ;"  then  went  hastily  away,  and 
retired  to  rest ;  he  often  felt  his  heart  beat,  but 
he  heeded  it  not.  Whether  the  damsels  were 
entirely  satisfied  with  being  consoled  in  a  fu- 
ture world,  cannot  be  exactly  ascertained,  be- 
cause they  never  explained  themselves  on  the 
subject. 

In  the  morning,  before  school  commenced, 
and  at  noon,  in  the  interval  of  teaching,  he 
studied  Geography,  and  Wolf's  Principles  of 
Mathematics  entirely  through  ;  he  also  found 
opportunity  of  extending  his  knowledge  of  dial- 
ling; for  he  had  drawn  in  the  school — one  of 
the  windows  of  which  lay  directly  towards  the 
south — upon  the  ceding,  with  black  oil  colours,  a 
sun-dial  as  large  as  the  ceiling  itself  introduced 
into  it  correctly  the  twelve  signs,  of  the  zodiac, 
and  divided  each  into  its  thirty  degrees  ;  above, 
in  the  zenith  of  the  dial,  stood  written  in  Ro- 
man characters,  neatly  painted,  "  Coeli  ennar- 


rant  gloriam  Dei  ;"— (The  heavens  declare  the 
glory  of  God.)  Before  the  window,  a  round 
mirror  was  fixed,  across  which  a  line  was  drawn 
in  oil-colours  ;  this  mirror  reflected  downwards, 
and  showed  not  only  the  hour  of  the  day,  but 
also,  minutely,  the  situation  of  the  sun  in  the 
zodiac.  This  dial  is  perhaps  still  in  existence  ; 
and  every  schoolmaster  can  make  use  of  it,  and 
at  the  same  time  be  conscious  what  kind  of  a 
predecessor  he  has  had. 

Up  to  this  period,  he  had  read  nothing  of  his- 
tory, except  church  history,  the  history  of  the 
martyrs,  and  the  biography  of  pious  persons, 
together  with  old  histories  of  the  wars,  of  the 
"  thirty  years'  war,"  and  the  like.  He  was  still 
deficient  in  poesy, — in  which  he  had  hitherto 
advanced  no  further  than  from  Eulenspiegel  to 
the  Emperor  Octavian,  including  Reynard  the 
Fox.  All  these  excellent  works  of  the  ancient 
Germans  he  had  read,  perhaps  a  hundred  times, 
and  related  them  again  to  others;  he  now 
longed  after  the  moderns.  He  did  not  reckon 
Homer  in  this  species  of  reading ; — he  was 
anxious  to  obtain  the  poets  of  h:s  own  country. 
And  he  found  what  he  sought.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Goldmann  had  a  son-in-law,  who  was  a  surgeon 
and  apothecary  ;  this  man  had  a  store  of  beau- 
tiful works,  particularly  of  romances,  which  he 
willingly  lent  to  the  schoolmaster ;  and  the  first 
book  he  took  home  with  him  was  "  the  Asiatic 
Banise." 

He  began  to  read  this  book  on  a  Sunday  af- 
ternoon. The  style  was  new  and  strange  to 
him.  He  imagined  he  had  entered  into  a  for- 
eign land,  and  heard  a  new  language,  but  it 
transported  and  touched  him  even  to  the  very 
centre  of  his  heart  ;  "  lightning,  thunder,  and. 
hail,  as  the  avenging  instruments,  of  a  righte- 
ous Heaven,"  was  to  him  an  expression  the 
beauty  of  which  he  was  unable  sufficiently  to 
applaud.  14  Gilded  towers," — what  admirable 
beauty  ! — and  thus  he  wondered  through  the 
whole  hook  at  the  number  of  metaphors  with 
which  the  style  of  Mr.  Von  Ziegler  overflowed. 
But  above  all,  the  plan  of  this  romance  seemed 
to  him  a  master-piece  of  invention,  and  its  au- 
thor was,  in  his  eyes,  the  greatest  poet  that 
Germany  had  ever  produced.  When  in  the 
course  of  reading  he  came  to  the  place  where 
Balacin  delivers  his  Banise  in  the  temple,  and 
slays  Chaumigrem,  the  thrill  of  sensation  so 
overpowered  him,  that  he  ran  out,  knelt  down 
in  a  private  corner,  and  thanked  God  that  he 
had  at  length  recompensed  the  wickedness  o 
the  wicked  on  their  own  heads,  and  placed  in- 
nocence upon  the  throne.  He  shed  sympathet- 
ic tears,  and  perused  the  second  part  with  equal 
warmth  of  feeling.  This  latter  pleased  him 
still« better  ;  the  plan  is  more  intricate, — and  on 
the  whole,  more  romantic.  He  afterwards  read 
two  quarto  volumes  of  the  history  of  the  Ger- 
man Christian  grand-prince  Hercules,  and  the 
royal  Bohemian  princess  Valiska  ;  and  this 
book  likewise  pleased'  him  exceedingly ;  he 
read  it  in  summer,  during  the  hay-harvest, 
when  he  had  a  vacation  of  a  few  days,  and  for- 
got the  whole  world  over  it.  What  a  felicity  it 
is,  to  read  such  a  new  creation  of  histories, — 
to  be  as  it  were  a  spectator,  and  feel  every 
thing  with  the  actors  of  them  ! — but  this  can 
only  be  understood  by  those  who  have  a  Sell- 
ing's heart. 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


3? 


There  was  once  a  time  when  it  was  said  that 
this  Hercules,  Banise,  and  such  like,  were  the 
greatest  works  that  Germany  ever  produced. 
There  was  also  a  time  when  gentlemen's  hats 
stood  three-cornered,  high  in  the  air,  and  the 
higher  the  handsomer.  Meanwhile,  the  head- 
dress of  the  women  and  virgins  stood  athwart, 
the  broader  the  better.  People  now  laugh  at 
Banise  and  Hercules,  just  as  they  laugh  at  some 
old  bachelor,  who  still  appears  in  a  three-corn- 
ered hat,  stiff-skirted  coat,  and  long  depending 
cuffs.  Instead  of  these,  they  now  wear  little 
hats,  little  coats,  little  frills,  read  love  sonnets 
and  chequered  romances,  and  imperceptibly 
become  so  small,  that  a  man  of  the  last  century 
is  regarded  as  a  giant,  that  swells  with  gross- 
ness.    Thanks  be,  first  to  Klopstock,  and  from 

him  down  to  ,  for  offering  resistance  to  this 

foreign  trifling  taste,  and  causing  it  to  decline. 
A  time  will  come,  once  more,  when  large  hats 
will  be  worn  again,  and  Banise  be  read  as  an 
excellent  piece  of  antiquity. 

The  effect  of  this  kind  of  reading  on  Stilling's 
spirit  was  wonderful,  and  certainly  uncommon  ; 
there  was  something  in  him,  which  foreboded 
strange  events  in  his  own  life  ;  he  rejoiced  in 
the  anticipation  of  the  future,  took  confidence 
in  his  gracious  and  heavenly  Father,  and  mag- 
nanimously resolved  blindly  and  implicitly  to 
follow  the  clue  which  a  wise  Providence  might 
put  into  his  hand.  He  likewise  felt  a  sweet  and 
heavenly  impulse  to  be  truly  noble  in  all  his  ac- 
tions— just  as  the  heroes  are  depicted  in  the 
above-mentioned  books.  He  then  read,  with  a 
heart  thus  rendered  susceptible,  the  Bible,  and 
spiritual  biographies  of  pious  people,  such  as 
Gottfried  Arnold's  "  Lives  of  the  Primitive 
Fathers,"  his  "  History  of  the  Church  and 
Heretics,"  and  others  of  the  same  kind.  By 
this  means  his  spirit  received  an  extremely 
singular  direction.  Every  thing  that  he  saw  in 
nature,  every  prospect,  was  idealized  into  a 
paradise  ;  all  was  beautiful  in  his  estimation, 
and  the  whole  world  almost  a  heaven.  He 
placed  wicked  men  in  the  same  class  with  brute 
beasts  ;  and  that  which  might  be  construed  into 
partially  good,  was  no  longer  evil  in  his  eyes. 
A  mouth  that  spoke  differently  to  what  the 
heart  thought,  and  all  irony  and  satire,  was  an 
abomination  to  him  ;  all  other  weaknesses  he 
could  excuse. 

Madame  Schmoll  learnt  also  gradually  to 
know  him  better,  and  therefore  her  fondness  for 
him  increased.  She  lamented  nothing  so  much 
as  that  he  was  a  tailor  and  schoolmaster,  both 
of  which  were,  in  her  eyes,  a  poor  means  of 
gaining  a  subsistence  ;  and  in  her  way,  she  was 
quite  in  the  right.  Stilling  knew  this  as  well  as 
she.  But  his  secondary  employments  pleased 
her  just  as  little  ;  she  said  sometimes  in  jest, 
"The  schoolmaster  will  eventually  either  come 
to  my  door  and  beg,  or  he  will  come  on  horse- 
back as  a  gentleman,  so  that  we  shall  be  obliged 
to  humble  ourselves  before  him."  She  then 
presented  him  her  snuff-box,  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and  said,  "Take  a  pinch,  schoolmas- 
ter ! — we  shall  live  to  see  something  more  of 
each  other  !"  Stilling  smiled,  obeyed,  and  said, 
"  The  Lord  will  direct !"  This  continued  until 
the  second  year  of  his  keeping  school  at  Prei- 
singen. The  two  girls  then  began  to  manifest 
their  affection  for  the  schoolmaster  more  and 


more.  Maria  had  the  courage  to  reveal  herself 
more  clearly,  and  to  lessen  the  obstacles  which 
lay  in  the  way  to  it.  He  felt  very  sensibly  that 
he  could  love  her,  but  he  was  horrified  at  the 
consequences  of  encouraging  the  sentiment ; 
he  therefore  continued  to  resist  every  thought 
of  her;  yet  in  secret,  he  always  felt  tenderly 
inclined  towards  her — it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  be  reserved.  Anna  saw  this,  and  was  in 
despair;  she  did  not  discover  herself,  but  was 
silent,  and  violently  suppressed  her  sorrow. 
Stilling,  however,  did  not  perceive  it;  he  did 
not  once  forebode  any  thing  disagreeable; 
otherwise  he  would  have  been  prudent  enough 
to  have  treated  her  with  kindness  also.  She 
grew  silent  and  melancholy ;— no  one  knew 
what  ailed  her.  A  variety  of  diversions  were 
sought  for,  but  all  was  in  vain.  At  length  she 
wished  to  visit  her  aunt,  who  lived  full  a  league 
from  Preisingen,  near  the  town  of  Salen.  This 
was  willingly  granted  her;  and  she  departed 
with  a  servant-girl,  who  returned  the  same 
evening,  and  affirmed  that  she  had  become 
quite  cheerful,  on  arriving  at  her  friend's  Af- 
ter a  few  days,  she  was  expected  back  again ; 
but  she  remained  away,  and  not  the  smallest 
news  was  received  of  her.  Madame  Schmoll 
began  to  be  anxious :  she  could  not  compre- 
hend why  the  girl  staid  so  long  away;  she  al- 
ways started  when  the  door  opened  in  the  even- 
ing, and  was  apprehensive  of  hearing  some 
gloomy  tidings.  At  noon,  on  the  Saturday  lol- 
lowing,  she  requested  the  schoolmaster  to  fetch 
her  Anna  back  again  ;  he  was  not  disinclined, 
but  made  himself  ready,  and  set  off.  * 

It  was  late  in  October ;  the  sun  stood  low  in 
the  south  ;  a  green  leal  still  hung  here  and 
there  on  the  trees,  and  a  cool  east  wind  whistled 
through  the  leafless  birches.  He  had  to  pass 
over  a  long  and  extensive  heath,  and  there  a 
horrible  and  melancholy  feeling  oppressed  him. 
He  reflected  upon  the  transitory  nature  of  all 
things;  he  felt  at  parting  with  the  beauties  of 
nature  as  at  parting  with  a  dear  friend  ;  but  he 
was  also  terrified  by  a  gloomy  presentiment, 
similar  to  what  is  felt  in  passing  some  notorious 
and  solitary  place  by  moonlight,  where  appari- 
tions are  dreaded.  He  proceeded  on  his  way, 
and  arrived  at  her  aunt's.  On  entering  the  door, 
Anna  skipped  towards  him  with  dishevelled 
hair,  and  neglected  dress,  frisked  a  few  times 
round  him,  and  said,  "Thou  art  my  dear  boy  ! 
but  thou  lovest  me  not.  Wait !  thou  shalt  have 
a  little  nosegay — such  a  nosegay  of  flowers  as 
grow  on  the  rocks  and  cliffs — a  nosegay  of  wild 
flowers — that  is  for  thee  !" 

Stilling  was  petrified;  he  stood,  and  said  not 
a  Word.  The  aunt  looked  at  him  and  wept, 
but  Anna  skipped  and  danced  away  again,  and 
sang, 

A  lambkin  grazed  near  the  flinty  stone, 
But  found  no  pasture  sweet; 
The  shepherd  went  and  left  it  alone, 
Which  caused  the  lrmbkin  to  bleat. 

Two  days  before,  she  had  gone  to  bed  in  the 
evening  sensible  and  well ;  but  in  the  morning, 
she  was  just  as  Stilling  now  found  her.  No  one 
could  guess  the  cause  from  whence  this  misfor- 
tune took  its  rise  ;  the  schoolmaster  himself  did 
not  know  it  at  that  time,  but  he  afterwards 
learned  it  from  the  speeches  that  she  made. 

The  worthy  woman  would  not  suffer  the  two 


38  HEINRICH 

to  depart  that  day  ;  but  besought  Stilling  to  stay 
the  night  there,  and  to  go  home  with  her  poor 
niece  the  next  morning;  he  willingly  agreed  to 
the  proposal  and  remained  there. 

In  the  evening,  during  supper,  she  sat  quite 
still  at  the  table,  but  ate  very  little.  Stilling 
said  to  her,  "Tell  me,  Anna,  do  not  you  relish 
your  supper  ?"  She  answered,  "  I  have  eaten, 
but  it  does  not  agree  with  me — I  have  pain  in 
the  heart !"  She  looked  wildly.  "  Hush  !"  con- 
tinued the  schoolmaster;  "you  were  formeily 
a  meek  and  gentle  girl ;  how  is  it  that  you  are 
so  changed]  You  see  how  your  aunt  weeps 
over  you, — does  not  that  pain  you3  I  myself 
have  been  forced  to  weep  over  you  ;  reflec  t  a 
little  ! — you  were  not  formerly  as  you  are  now  ! 
Be  as  you  were  before  !"  She  replied,  "  Lis- 
ten ;  I  vvili  tell  thee  a  pretty  tale : — There  was 
once  an  old  woman — "  she  now  rose  up,  bent 
herself,  took  a  stick  in  her  hand,  went  about 
the  room,  and  imitated  quite  naturally  the  figure 
of  an  old  woman. — "Thou  hast  surely  seen  an 
old  woman  going  a-begging.  This  old  woman 
also  went  a-begging,  and  when  she  received 
any  thing,  she  said  *  God  reward  you  !'  Is  not 
that  what  beggars  say  when  people  give  them 
something*  The  beggar-woman  came  to  a 
door — to  a  door.  There  stood  a  friendly  rogue 
of  a  boy  at  the  fire,  and  warmed  himself.  He 
was  just  such  a  youth  as — ,''  she  winked  at  the 
schoolmaster. — "  The  lad  said  kindly  to  the  poor 
old  woman;  as  she  stood  at  the  door  and  trem- 
bled, 1  Come  in,  old  mother,  and  warm  yourself.' 
She  came  towards  the  fire." — She  now  walked 
about  again  very  nimbly,  came  and  stood  bent 
near  Stilling  : — "  but  she  went  and  stood  too 
near  the  fire ;  her  old  rags  began  to  burn,  and 
she  knew  it  not.  The  youth  stood  and  saw  it. 
He  should  have  extinguished  it,  ought  he  not, 
schoolmaster  ?  He  should  have  extinguished  it." 

Stilling  was  silent.  He  knew  not  what  to 
think ;  he  had  a  kind  of  gloomy  presentiment, 
which  made  him  very  melancholy.  But  she 
-would  have  an  answer  ;  she  said — 

"  Tell  me,  should  he  not  have  extinguished 
it  1  Give  me  an  answer,  and  I  will  also  say, 
1  God  reward  you  !'  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Stilling;  "he  ought  to  have 
extinguished  it.  But  suppose  he  had  no  water, 
and  could  not  extinguish  it !" 

Stilling  now  rose  up;  he  was  much  disturbed, 
yet  did  not  dare  to  let  it  be  perceived. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Anna,  and  wept ;  "  he 
ought  in  that  case  to  have  poured  all  the  water 
out  of  his  body  through  his  eyes,  that  would 
have  made  two  such  pretty  streams  to  put  the 
fire  out." — She  came  again,  and  looked  at  him 
keenly  in  the  face  ;  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes* — 
«  Come,"  said  she,  "  I  will  however  wipe  these 
away  !" 

She  took  her  white  pocket-handkerchief, 
wiped  them  away,  and  sat  down  again  quietly 
in  her  place.  All  were  silent  and  melancholy. 
They  then  went  to  bed. 

It  was  impossible  for  Stilling  to  sleep ;  he 
thought  nothing  else  than  that  his  heart  would 
burst  in  his  body  from  pure  sympathy  and  com- 
passion. He  revolved  within  himself  how  he 
ought  to  act.  His  heart  spoke  for  compassion 
upon  her,  but  his  conscience  demanded  the 
strictest  reserve.  He  then  examined  which  re- 
quirement he  ought  to  follow.    His  heart  said, 


STILLING. 

"  Thou  canst  make  her  happy  !"  But  his  con- 
science replied,  "This  happiness  would  be  of 
short  duration,  and  be  followed  by  long  and  un- 
limited wretchedness."  His  heart  thought,  God 
might  cause  his  future  fortunes  to  turn  out 
very  happily ;  but  conscience  judged,  that  we 
ought  not  to  tempt  God,  nor  expect  that,  for  the 
sake  of  gratilymg  the  passions  of  two  poor 
worms,  He  would  alter  the  course  which  his 
providence  might  have  marked  out  for  him. 
"That  is  but  too  true!"  said  Stilling,  as  he 
jumped  out  of  bed,  and  walked  up  and  down; 
"  1  will  behave  in  a  friendly  manner  towards 
her ;  but  at  the  same  time  with  seriousness  and 
reserve." 

On  Sunday  morning,  the  schoolmaster  set 
off  with  the  young  lady  to  return  home.  She 
would  absolutely  take  his  arm  ;  he  consented 
unwillingly,  because  it  would  have  been  taken 
much  amiss  of  him,  if  it  had  been  seen  by  grave 
and  serious  people.  However,  he  overcame  his 
repugnance,  and  gave  her  his  right  arm.  On 
arriving  at  the  heath  above-mentioned,  she  left 
him,  walked  about,  and  plucked  herbs,  not  green, 
but  such  as  were  either  half  or  entirely  wither- 
ed and  dry.  She  sang,  at  the  same  time,  the 
following  song : — 

"  There  sat  upon  the  verdant  heath, 

A  shepherd  old  and  gray  ; 
His  sheep  around  the  pasture  grazed, 

And  by  the  wood  did  stray. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more  ! 

The  shepherd,  tired  and  bent  with  age, 

About  his  flocks  did  go, 
And  when  the  sun  at  noontide  glovv'd, 

His  steps  were  faint  and  slow. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more ! 

He  had  a  daughter,  young  and  fair, 

An  only  daughter  she  ; 
And  many  a  shepherd's  son  did  long 

That  she  his  bride  might  be. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more  ! 

„   There  was  but  one  amongst  them  all, 
The  worthy  Pharaniond  ; 
That  touched  the  maiden's  tender  heart, 
Of  whom  she  could  be  fond. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more ! 

A  grievous  bite  he  had  received 
From  some  strange  shepherd's  hound, 

Which  tore  his  flesh,  and  in  his  foot 
Inflicted  deep  a  wound. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more  '. 

One  time,  as  they  together  went 

Beneath  the  forest's  shade, 
And  walked  side  by  side,  they  felt 

Dismay  each  heart  pervade. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more ! 

Now  to  the  heath  at  length  they  came, 

Where  the  old  shepherd  was, 
Whilst  round  about  the  pasture  mourn'd 

The  sheep  upon  the  grass. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more 

On  a  green  spot,  all  suddenly, 

Poor  Pharamond  stood  fast ; 
The  little  birds  in  terror  sate 

Quite  still,  each  in  its  nest. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more ! 

And  with  his  cruel  teeth  so  white, 

He  seized  upon  his  bride,  , 

Who  shed  a  thousand  bitter  tears, 
And  for  compassion  cried. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more  I 

The  fearful  agonizing  cry 

The  father's  ear  soon  found : 
The  maiden's  lamentation  loud 

Did  through  the  wood  resound. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more ! 

The  father,  stiff  and  weak  with  age, 
Ran  slowly  to  the  place  ; 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


39 


He  found  her  only  just  alive, 
And  horror  clothed  his  luce. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more ! 
The  young  man  now  return 'd  again, 

From  his  insanity, 
And  dying,  tell  upon  the  ground, 
Where  Loru'a  head  did  lie. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more  ! 
And  'midst  a  thousand  kisses  sweet, 

Their  souls  together  tied  ; 
And  whilst  the  tears  flow'd  weakly  down, 
They  mingled  with  the  dead. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more  ! 
The  father,  in  distress  of  soul, 

Wow  totters  up  and  down 
No  genial  star  shines  on  him  more, 
And  every  joy  is  flown. 
O  sun,  look  back  once  more !" 

Stilling  was  forced  to  do  violence  to  himself 
to  prevent  himself  from  weeping  and  crying 
aloud.  She  often  stood  opposite  the  sun,  look- 
ed tenderly  at  it,  and  sang,  "  O  sun,  look  back 
once  more  !"  Her  tones  were  soft,  like  those 
of  the  turtle-dove,  when  it  coos  once  more  be- 
fore the  setting  of  the  sun.  I  could  wish  my 
readers  had  only  heard  the  soft  harmonious 
melody  of  this  and  the  other  songs  which  ap- 
pear in  this  narrative;  they  would  then  proba- 
bly feel  them  doubly  ;  however,  I  may  perhaps 
publish  them  at  some  future  period. 

At  length  she  again  seized  hold  of  his  arm, 
and  went  on  with  him.  "  Thou  weepest,  Phar- 
amond !"  said  she,  "but  thou  dost  not  bite  me 
yet ;  call  me  Lora, —  I  will  call  thee  Phara- 
mond  ;  wilt  thou  V  "  Yes,"  said  Stilling,  with 
tears  ;  "  be  thou  Lora,  I  am  Pharamond.  Poor 
Lora  !  what  will  your  mother  say  to  you  !" 

Anna. — "  Here  is  a  withered  nosegay  for 
thee,  my  Pharamond  ! — but  thou  weepest  V 

Stilling. — "  I  weep  for  Lora." 

Anna. — "  Lora  is  a  good  girl.  Hast  thou  ever 
been  in  hell,  Pharamond  V 

Stilling. — "  God  preserve  us  from  it !" 

She  seized  his  right  hand,  laid  it  under  her 
left  breast,  and  said,  "  How  it  beats  there  ! — 
there  is  hell — thou  belongest  there,  Phara 
mond  !"  She  gnashed  her  teeth,  aud  looked 
wildly  around  her.  "Yes,"  continued  she, 
"  thou  art  already  in  it !  but — like  an  evil  angel." 
Here  she  paused,  and  wept.  "  No,"  said  she, 
"  not  so,  not  so  !" 

During  speeches  of  this  kind,  which  were  so 
many  daggers  to  the  heart  of  poor  Stilling,  they 
reached  home.  As  she  crossed  the  threshold, 
Maria  came  out  of  the  kitchen,  and  her  mother 
out  of  the  parlour.  Anna  threw  her  arms  round 
her  mother's  neck,  kissed  her,  and  said,  "Oray 
dear  mother!  I  am  now  become  so  good — as 
good  as  an  angel ;  and  thou,  Maria,  mayst  say 
what  thou  wilt  (shaking  her  fist  at  her) ;  thou 
hast  taken  my  shepherd  from  me  ;  and  feedest 
quietly  in  a  good  pasture.  But  dost  thou  know 
the  song  : — 

'A  lambkin  grazed  near  the  flinty  stone  V  " 

She  skipped  into  the  parlour,  and  kissed  all 
she  saw  there.  Madame  Schmoll  and  Maria 
wept  aloud.  "O  what  have  I  lived  to  see!" 
said  the  good  mother,  and  cried  bitterly.  Still- 
ing meanwhile  related  every  thing  he  had  heard 
from  her  aunt,  and  was  heartily  grieved  for  her. 
His  soul,  which  on  all  occasions  was  extreme- 
ly susceptible,  sank  in  profound  sorrow  ■  for  he 
now  saw  clearly  how  the  misfortune  had  arisen, 
and  yet  he  did  not  dare  to  say  a  word  of  it  to  any 


one.  Maria  perceived  it  aiso ;  she  reflected 
herself  in  her  s.ster,  and  gradually  withdrew  her 
heart  from  Stilling,  by  giving  ear  to  other  wor- 
thy young  men  who  paid  their  court  to  her. 
Poor  Anna,  meanwhile,  was  taken  to  an  upper 
room  in  the  house,  where  an  old  woman  was 
placed  with  her,  to  attend  her  and  watt  upon 
her.  She  sometimes  became  so  insane,  that 
she  tore  every  thing  she  could  lay  hold  of ;  the 
schoolmaster  was  then  called,  because  there 
was  no  oiher  man  in  the  house,  except  the 
man-servant ;  he  was  soon  able  to  tranquillize 
her  , — he  had  only  to  call  her  Lora,  she  then 
called  him  Pharamond,  and  was  as  tauie  as  a 
lamb. 

Her  customary  pastime  consisted  in  imitating 
a  shepherdess  ;  and  this  idea  must  have  solely 
proceeded  Jrom  the  song  above-mentioned,  for 
she  had  certainly  read  no  shepherd's  tales  or 
idyls,  except  a  few  songs  of  the  kind,  which 
were  current  in  Madame  Schmoll's  house.  On 
coming  up  into  the  room,  she  was  tbund  dressed 
in  a  white  shirt  put  over  her  clothes,  and  a 
man's  round  hat  upon  her  head.  She  had  gird- 
ed herself  about  the  body  with  a  green  riband, 
the  long  depending  end  of  which  she  bound 
about  the  neck  of  her  shepherd's  dog,  whom 
she  called  Philax,  and  who  was  none  oilier  than 
her  old  attendant.  The  good  old  woman  was 
obliged  to  creep  about  on  her  hands  and  feet, 
and  to  bark  as  well  as  she  was  able,  when  she 
was  urged  to  it  by  her  mistress ;  the  barking 
often  did  not  suffice  ;  but  she  was  obliged  to 
bite  one  or  other  in  the  leg.  Sometimes  the 
woman  was  weary  of  acting  the  part  of  a  dog, 
but  then  she  received  hard  blows,  lor  Anna  had 
constantly  a  long  staff  in  her  hand  ;  the  good 
old  woman,  however,  was  willing  to  let  herself 
be  used  in  this  manner,  because  she  was  thus 
able  to  pacify  Anna,  and  besides  good  eating  and 
drinking,  was  well  paid  for  her  trouble. 

This  wretched  state  of  things  lasted  only  a 
few  weeks.  Anna  came  to  hersell  again  ;  she 
lamented  much  the  state  in  which  she  had  been, 
and  grew  more  prudent  and  rational  than  be- 
fore ;  and  Stilling  revived  again,  particularly  as 
he  now  perceived  that  he  had  escaped  two  such 
dangerous  rocks.  However  no  one  in  the  fam- 
ily ever  discovered  what  had  been  the  true  rea- 
son of  Anna's  indisposition. 

Stilling  continued  to  pay  unwearied  attention 
to  his  school;  yet,  although  he  was  diligent  in 
imparting  knowledge  to  his  scholars,  there  were 
several  of  the  peasantry  who  began  to  be  very 
hostile  to  him.  The  cause  of  this  cannot  be  de- 
veloped. Stilling  was  one  of  those  characters 
who  are  indifferent  to  no  one — he  was  neces- 
sarily either  loved  or  hated  ;  those  who  loved 
him  looked  at  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  and 
willingly  forgave  him  his  faults;  whilst  those 
who  hated  him,  regarded  his  kind-heartedness 
as  stupid  simplicity,  his  actions  as  fawning 
flattery,  and  his  abilities  as  ostentation.  The 
latter  were  implacably  opposed  to  him,  and  the 
more  he  sought,  according  to  his  character,  to 
gain  them  with  kindness,  the  more  bitter  were 
they  against  him ;  for  they  believed  it  was  mere 
dissimulation,  and  therefore  became  only  the 
more  his  enemies.  At  length  he  committed  an 
imprudence,  by  which  he  entirely  lost  the  Prei- 
singen school,  however  well  mean*  the  thing 
was  on  his  part. 


40  HEINRICH 

He  was  unwilling  to  confine  himself  to  the 
old  and  customary  method  of  teaching,  but 
sought  out  a  variety  of  contrivances  to  amuse 
himself  and  his  scholars  ;  on  which  account  he 
was  continually  thinking  of  something  new. 
His  inventive  mind  found  a  variety  of  ways  of 
amusingly  conveying  to  the  children  what  they 
had  to  learn.  Many  of  the  peasants  regarded 
it  as  useful ;  others  considered  it  as  childish- 
ness, and  himself  as  a  complete  fool.  He  began 
something,  in  particular,  which  excited  much 
attention.  He  cut  pieces  of  white  paper,  as 
large  as  cards  ;  these  he  distinguished  by  num- 
bers ;  the  numbers  referred  to  those  questions 
in  the  Heidelberg  catechism  which  answered  to 
them  ;  these  leaves  were  shuffled  by  four  or  five 
boys,  or  as  many  as  would  play  together;  the 
cards  were  then  dealt  round  and  played  ;  the 
greater  numbers  always  won  the  less  ;  he  who 
at  last  had  the  highest  number,  needed  only 
learn  the  question  which  his  number  indicated  ; 
and  if  he  had  already  previously  learned  it,  he 
learned  nothing  more  till  the  following  day  ;  but 
the  rest  were  obliged  to  learn  whatever  num- 
bers they  had  lying  before  them,  and  their  luck 
consisted  in  knowing  many  of  the  questions 
which  fell  to  them  in  their  numbers.  Stilling 
had  occasionally  seen  cards  played,  and  taken 
his  game  from  thence  ;  although  he  understood 
nothing  of  gaming,  yet  such  was  the  construc- 
tion put  upon  it;  and  the  whole  affair  was  laid 
before  his  relative,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Goldmann,  in 
its  worst  point  of  view. 

This  excellent  man  had  a  cordial  affection 
for  Stilling,  and  his  imprudence  grieved  him  be- 
yond measure  ;  he  sent  for  the  schoolmaster, 
and  took  him  to  task  on  the  subject.  Stilling 
frankly  stated  every  thing  to  him,  shewed  him 
the  game,  and  convinced  him  of  the  utility  he 
had  derived  from  it.  But  Mr.  Goldmann,  who 
knew  the  world  better,  said  to  him,  "  My  dear 
cousin,  we  must  not,  in  the  present  day,  look 
merely  to  the  utility  of  a  thing,  but  also  always 
duly  consider  whether  the  means  to  attain  it 
are  approved  of  by  the  world  ;  otherwise  we 
shall  earn  reproach  instead  of  thanks,  and  con- 
tempt instead  of  reward.  Thus  it  fares  with 
you  at  present ;  for  your  peasantry  are  so  en- 
raged, that  they  will  not  retain  you  longer  than 
Michaelmas  ;  they  intend,  if  you  do  not  volun- 
tarily resign,  to  inform  the  inspector  of  the 
whole  affair,  and  you  know  what  kind  of  a  man 
he  is.  Now  it  would  be  a  pity  if  the  matter 
were  carried  so  far  ;  because  you  could  then 
never  be  a  schoolmaster  again  in  this  country. 
I  therefore  advise  you  to  resign  ;  and  tell  your 
people  this  very  day,  that  you  are  weary  of 
keeping  school,  and  that  they  may  choose  an- 
other schoolmaster.  You  will  then  come  off 
honorably,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before  you 
have  a  better  school  than  this  you  are  now  keep- 
ing. I  shall  in  the  meantime,  continue  my  af- 
fection for  you,  and  take  care  to  be  of  service  to 
you  as  much  as  I  am  able." 

This  speech  penetrated  Stilling  through  and 
through  ;  he  grew  pale,  and  the  tears  stood  in 
his  eyes.  He  had  represented  the  matter  to 
himself  as  it  was,  and  not  as  it  might  be  con- 
strued ; — however,  he  perceived  that  his  rela- 
tive was  quite  in  the  right ;  he  was  now  again 
made  wiser,  and  resolved  in  future  to  be  ex- 
tremely careful.    However,  he  secretly  lament- 


STILLING. 

ed  that  the  greater  part  of  his  brethren  in  of- 
fice, with  less  ability  and  diligence,  enjoyed 
more  rest  and  success  than  he  ;  and  he  began 
lo  cast  a  gloomy  look  into  the  future,  with  re- 
spect to  what  his  heavenly  Father  might  have 
in  view  for  him.  On  coming  home,  he  an- 
nounced his  resignation,  with  heartfelt  grief,  to 
the  congregation.  The  majority  were  aston- 
ished ;  but  the  baser  sort  were  glad,  for  they 
had  already  some  one  else  whom  they  intended 
to  propose,  who  would  suit  their  purpose  better, 
and  now  no  one  hindered  them  from  attaining 
their  object.  Madame  Schmoll  and  her  daugh- 
ters found  the  most  difficulty  in  being  satisfied 
with  it ;  for  the  former  loved  him,  and  the  two 
latter  had  changed  their  love  into  a  heartfelt 
friendship,  which  might  easily,  however,  have 
assumed  its  former  fire,  if  he  had  acted  more- 
tenderly  towards  them,  or  if  any  other  possibil- 
ity had  manifested  itself  of  attaining  the  wished- 
for  aim.  They  all  three  wept  and  dreaded  the 
parting  hour,  which  came,  however,  still  too 
soon.  The  girls  were  plunged  in  silent  sorrow ; 
but  Madame  Schmoll  wept.  Stilling  staggered 
like  one  intoxicated  ;  they  pressed  him  to  visit 
them  often,  which  he  promised  to  do,  and  reel- 
ed again  northwards  up  the  hill ; — from  its  sum- 
mit, he  looked  once  more  towards  his  beloved 
Preisingen,  sat  down  and  wept.  "  Yes,"  thought 
he,  "  Lampe  is  quite  in  the  right,  when  be 
sings,  •  My  life  is  but  a  pilgrimage.'  This  is 
the  third  time  I  am  obliged  to  return  to  my 
trade  ;  when  will  it  please  God  to  make  me  at 
length  constantly  happy,  since  my  sole  inten- 
tion is  to  act  uprightly  and  virtuously  !"  He 
now  commended  himself  to  God,  and  walked 
with  his  bundle  towards  Leindorf. 

In  the  course  of  two  hours,  he  arrived  there. 
Wilhelm  looked  angrily  at  him,  as  he  entered 
the  door :  this  pierced  him  to  the  soul  ;  but  his 
mother  did  not  once  regard  him  ; — he  sat  down,, 
and  knew  not  what  to  think.  At  length  his  fa- 
ther began  :  "  Art  thou  there  again,  worthless 
boy  1  I  thought  to  have  had  nothing  but  joy 
of  thee  ;  what  avail  thee  thy  useless  arts  I 
Thou  hast  taken  a  dislike  to  thy  trade,  and  sit- 
test  there  sighing  and  sighing  ;  and  when  thou 
art  schoolmaster,  thou  prosperest  nowhere.  At 
Zellberg  thou  wast  a  child,  and  hadst  childish 
projects,  therefore  something  was  conceded 
there.  At  Dorlingen  thou  wast  a  shoe  black, 
so  little  power  and  energy  there  is  in  thee ;. 
here  at  Leindorf  thou  vexedst  the  people  with 
trifles,  which  were  of  no  use  either  to  thyself 
or  others  ;  and  at  Preisingen,  thou  wast  obliged 
to  make  thy  escape,  in  order  to  save  thy  credit. 
What  wilt  thou  now  do  here  1  Thou  must  ap- 
ply thyself  regularly  to  thy  trade  and  to  farming, 
or  else  I  cannot  employ  thee."  Stilling  sighed 
deeply,  and  answered,  "  Father,  I  feel  within 
my  üouI  that  I  am  not  to  blame  ;  but  I  cannot 
justify  myself.  God  in  heaven  knows  all !  I 
must  be  satisfied  with  what  He  ordains  concern- 
ing me.  But 

"  'Eventually  the  happy  year 

Of  wish'd-for  liberty  will  come!' 

"  It  would  be  dreadful,  if  God  had  implanted 
impulses  and  inclinations  in  my  soul,  and  his 
providence  refused  during  my  whole  life  to  sat- 
isfy them  1" 

Wilhelm  was  silent,  and  laid  some  work  be- 
fore him.    He  sat  down  and  began  to  work  ; 


STIL  LING'S  YOU 


THFUL  YEARS. 


41 


he  possessed  so  much  aptitude  for  it,  that  his 
father  often  begain  to  doubt  whether  he  was 
not  even  destined  by  God  to  be  a  tailor.  But 
this  idea  was  so  intolerable  to  Stilling,  that  his 
whole  soul  rose  against  it;  he  therefore  said 
sometimes,  when  Wilhelm  expressed  an  idea 
of  the  kind,  "  I  do  not  believe  that  God  has 
condemned  me  to  a  continual  hell  in  this  life  !" 

It  was  now  autumn,  and  the  farming  business 
was  principally  over;  he  was  therefore  obliged 
to  labor  almost  incessantly  at  his  trade,  and 
this  he  preferred;  his  limbs  could  endure  it 
better.  His  melancholy,  however,  soon  re- 
turned ;  he  felt  as  if  he  was  in  a  strange  land, 
forsaken  by  all  men.  This  suffering  had  some- 
thing very  peculiar  and  indescribable  in  it;  the 
only  thing  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand, 
was  this — as  soon  as  the  sun  shone,  he  felt  his 
sufferings  doubly  ;  whilst  the  light  and  shade 
of  autumn  brought  such  an  inexpressible  feel- 
ing into  his  soul,  that  he  often  thought  he  should 
die  of  sorrow ; — on  the  contrary,  when  the 
weather  was  rainy  and  stormy,  he  felt  more  at 
ease  ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  sitting  in 
a  dark  cleft  of  a  rock,  and  he  then  felt  a  secret 
security,  in  which  he  was  comfortable.  Amongst 
bis  old  papers,  I  have  found  a  piece  which  he 
wrote  in  the  month  of  October  of  that  autumn, 
on  a  Sunday  afternoon ;  the  following  are  ex- 
tracts from  it : — 

"  Yellow  is  the  morning  dress 

Of  the  expiring  season  ; 

Yellow  is  the  sunny  ray 
•That  shines  obliquely  from  the  south, 

Reposing  wearily 

Along  the  field  and  on  the  hill: 

The  frigid  shadows  lengthen 

Upon  the  faded  grass, 

Grey  with  the  hoary  frost. 

The  harsh  and  sharp  eastwind 

Casts  down  the  withered  leaves, 

They  rustle  with  the  frost,"  &c 

And  in  another  place  : — 

"  When  in  the  night  I  wake, 
I  hear  the  hooting  owl ; 
The  oak-tree  whittles  in  the  wind ; 
The  half-decayed  hoards 
Rattle  against  the  walls; 
And  rudely  roars  the  storm 
Then  in  the  gloom  I  feel  at  ease, 
And  taste  a  peace  profound, 
A  melancholy  sweet,"  &c. 

When  his  father  was  more  kindly  disposed, 
so  that  he  could  venture  to  disburden  himself 
to  him  a  little,  he  sometimes  complained  to  him 
of  his  inward  melancholy  feelings.  Wilhelm 
then  smiled,  and  said,  "That  is  something  with 
which  we  Stillings  are  unacquainted,  and  which 
thou  hast  inherited  from  thy  mother.  We  have 
always  been  good  friends  with  nature,  whether 
she  looks  green,  yellow,  or  white;  we  then 
think  there  is  a  needs-be  for  it,  and  are  satisfied 
with  it.  But  thy  late  mother  skipped  and 
danced  in  the  spring;  in  the  summer  she  was 
cheerful  and  busy  ;  in  the  beginning  of  autumn 
she  began  to  grieve ;  she  wept  till  Christmas, 
and  then  she  began  to  hope  and  to  count  the 
days;  but  in  March  she  was  again  half-alive." 
Wilhelm  smiled,  shook  his  head,  and  said, 
"These  are  strange  things  !"  Heinrich  then 
often  sighed  in  his  heart,  and  said  to  himself. 
uO  that  she  were  now  alive  ! — she  would  have 
understood  me  better  than  any  one." 

Stilling  sometimes  found  an  hour  which  he 
could  apply  to  reading,  and  then  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  he  still  enjoyed  a  distant  relish  of 
F 


I  the  happy  times  that  were  past ;  but  it  was 
only  a  transitory  enjoyment.  He  was  surround- 
ed entirely  by  frigid  spirits  ;  he  felt  the  contin- 
ual operation  of  a  hungry  desire  after  money  ; 
and  cheerful,  quiet  enjoyment  had  disappeared. 
He  wept  over  his  youth,  and  mourned  over  it, 
like  a  bridegroom  for  his  deceased  bride.  Yet 
all  was  in  vain ;  he  did  not  dare  to  complain, 
and  his  tears  only  caused  him  reproaches.  He 
had,  however,  an  only  friend  at  Leindorf,  who 
completely  understood  him,  and  to  whom  he 
could  utter  all  his  complaints.  This  man's 
name  was  Caspar,  an  iron-founder,  who  pos- 
sessed a  noble  soul,  warm  in  the  cause  of  reli- 
ffion,  together  with  a  heart  full  of  sensibility. 
There  were  still  some  beautiful  days  in  No- 
vember ;  Caspar  and  Stilling  therefore  walked 
out  on  the  Sunday  afternoons,  on  which  occa- 
sions their  souls  overflowed  into  each  other. 
Caspar,  in  particular,  had  a  firm  conviction  in 
his  mind,  that  his  friend  Stilling  was  destined 
by  his  Heavenly  Father  to  something  very  dif- 
ferent from  keeping  school,  and  the  trade  of  a 
a  tailor ;  this  he  was  able  to  demonstrate  so  in- 
controvertibly,  that  Stilling  calmly  and  magnan- 
imously resolved  patiently  to  endure  all  that 
might  befall  him.  At  Christmas,  fortune  again 
smiled  upon  him.  The  wardens  of  Kleefeld 
came,  and  appointed  him  to  be  their  schoolmas- 
ter : — now  this  was  the  best  and  finest  parochial 
school  in  the  whole  principality  of  Salen.  This 
quite  revived  him,  and  he  thanked  God  uponr 
his  knees.  On  his  departure,  his  father  gave 
him  the  most  faithful  admonitions  ;  and  he  him- 
self made,  so  to  speak,  a  vow,  from  that  time 
to  devote  all  his  ability  and  knowledge  to  obtain 
the  greatest  celebrity  that  could  be  derived 
from  teaching.  The  wardens  went  with  him  to 
Salen,  and  he  was  there  confirmed  in  his  office, 
before  the  consistory,  by  the  Inspector  Mein- 
hold. 

With  this  firm  determination,  he  entered 
again  into  office,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
year  1760,  in  the  twentieth  year  of  his  age,  and 
fulfilled  its  duties  with  such  earnestness  and 
zeal  that  it  was  reported  far  and  wide ;  and  all 
his  enemies  and  adversaries  began  to  be  silent, 
whilst  his  friends  triumphed.  He  maintained 
this  fidelity  also  as  long  as  he  was  there  ;  but 
notwithstanding  this,  continued  his  reading  in 
his  leisure  moments.  The  harpsichord  and 
mathematics  were  his  principal  occupations  at 
such  times;  however,  poets  and  romances  were 
not  forgotten.  Towards  the  spring,  he  became 
acquainted  with  a  colleague  in  office,  of  the  name 
of  Graser,  who  kept  school  up  the  valley,  a  good 
half-league  from  Kleefeld,  at  the  village  of  KJein- 
hoven.  This  man  was  one  of  those  who,  with 
a  much-implying  mien,  are  always  silent,  and 
all  they  do  is  done  in  secret. 

I  have  often  had  a  desire  to  classify  mankind  ; 
and  then  I  would  designate  the  class  to  which 
Graser  belonged,  as  the  splenetic.  The  best  of 
thi-s  class  are  silent  observers  without  feeling — 
the  middling  sort  are  dissemblers — and  the- 
worst,  spies  and  traitors.  Graser  was  friendly 
towards  Stilling,  but  not  confidential  ;  Stilling^ 
on  the  contrary,  was  both,  and  that  pleased  the 
former;  he  gladly  made  his  observations  on 
others  in  the  light,  but  preferred  remaining  in 
the  dark  himself.  In  order  that  he  might  make 
a  real  friend  of  Stilling,  he  always  spoke  of 


42 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


great  mysteries — that  he  understood  how  to 
render  magical  and  sympathetic  powers  sub- 
servient to  him ;  and  once  he  confided  to  Still 
iug,  under  the  seal  of  the  most  profound  secre- 
cy, that  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  first 
material  for  procuring  the  philosopher's  stone. 
Gra*ser  assumed,  at  the  same  time,  as  mysteri- 
ous a  look  as  if  he  really  possessed  the  great 
secret  himself.  Stilling  supposed  it  was  the 
case;  and  Graser  denied  it  in  a  manner  which 
fully  convinced  the  former  that  he  really  pos- 
sessed the  philosopher's  stone.  To  this  must 
be  added,  that  Graser  had  always  much  money 
— far  more  than  his  vocation  could  yield  him. 
Stilling  was  extremely  pleased  at  having  made 
such  an  acquaintance ;  nay,  he  even  hoped 
eventually,  by  the  help  of  his  friend,  to  become 
an  adept  himself.  Graser  lent  him  the  writings 
of  Basilius  Valentinus.  He  read  them  very  at- 
tentively through,  and  when  he  came,  at  the 
close,  to  the  process  with  Hungarian  vitriol,  he 
was  no  longer  master  of  his  feelings.  He  real- 
ly believed  that  he  himself  could  now  make  the 
philosopher's  stone.  He  reflected  awhile  with 
himself ;  but  it  occurred  to  him,  that  if  the  pro- 
cess were  so  perfectly  correct,  any  one  would 
foe  able  to  make  it  who  possessed  the  book. 

I  can  assure  the  reader,  that  Stilling's  inclina- 
tion to  alchymy  never  had  the  philosopher's 
stone  for  its  object ; — if  he.  had  found  it,  it 
would  have  afforded  him  pleasure,  it  is  true  ; 
fout  a  principle  in  his  soul,  of  which  I  have 
hitherto  said  nothing,  began  to  develope  itself 
in  his  maturer  years — and  that  was  an  insatia- 
ble hunger  after  an  acquaintance  with  the  first 
principles  of  nature.  (At  that  time,  he  was  ig- 
norant what  name  to  apply  to  this  science  ;  the 
word  "  philosophy,"  appeared  to  him  to  signify 
something  different.)  This  wish  is  not  yet  ful- 
filled ;  neither  Newton,  nor  Leibnitz,  nor  any 
other  has  been  able  to  satisfy  him  ;  however, 
he  has  confessed  to  me,  that  he  has  now  found 
the  true  track,  and  that  in  due  time  he  will 
bring  it  to  light. 

At  that  period,  alchymy  seemed  to  him  the 
way  to  arrive  at  it,  and  therefore  he  read  all  the 
writings  of  that  kind  he  could  lay  hold  of.  But 
there  was  something  in  him,  which  continually 
cried  out,  Where  is  the  proof  that  it  is  true  1 
He  acknowledged  only  three  sources  of  truth — 
experience,  mathematical  demonstration,  and 
the  Bible :  and  none  of  these  three  sources  af- 
forded him  any  light  into  alchymy  ;  he  therefore 
abandoned  it,  for  the  present,  entirely. 

He  once  visited  his  friend  Graser  on  a  Saturday 
afternoon,  when  he  found  him  sitting  alone  in 
the  school,  where  he  was  engraving  something 
that  resembled  a  seal.  Stilling  said  to  him, 
"  What  are  you  making  there,  colleague?' 

Graser. — "  I  am  engraving  a  seal." 

Stilling. — "  Let  me  see  it ;  the  work  is  very 
-fine  !" 

Graser. — "  It  belongs  to  Mr.  Von  N  . 

Hear  me,  friend  Stilling;  I  would  gladly  assist 
you,  so  as  to  enable  you  to  maintain  yourself 
without  keeping  school  or  following  the  trade 
of  a  tailor.  I  conjure  you  by  all  that  is  sacred, 
that  you  do  not  betray  me." 

Stilling  gave  his  hand  upon  it,  and  said,  "  I 
will  certainly  not  betray  you." 

Graser. — "  Well,  hear  me,  then.  I  have  a 
secret ; — I  can  change  copper  into  silver.    I  will 


take  you  into  partnership  with  me,  and  give  you 
hall  the  gain  ;  however,  you  must  sometimes 
privately  take  a  journey  for  a  few  days,  and  seek 
to  exchange  the  silver  with  certain  people." 

Stilling  sat  and  reflected  upon  the  matter  ;— 
the  offer  altogether  did  not  please  him  ;  for  first, 
his  motive  was  not  to  gain  money,  but  only  to 
attain  an  acquaintance  with  the  truth,  and  with 
the  sciences,  in  order  thereby  to  serve  God  and 
his  neighbour;  and  secondly,  notwithstanding 
his  little  knowledge  of  the  world,  the  whole  af- 
fair appeared  suspicious  to  him ;  for  the  more 
he  looked  at  the  seal,  the  more  he  was  con- 
vinced it  was  a  stamp  used  for  coining.  He 
therefore  began  to  be  alarmed,  and  sought  an 
opportunity  to  get  loose  from  schoolmaster  Gra- 
ser, by  telling  him  that  he  would  go  home  and 
consider  the  matter. 

After  some  days,  an  alarm  was  spread  through 
the  whole  country.  The  thief-takers  went  in 
the  night  to  Kleinhoven,  with  the  intention  of 
arresting  Graser  the  schoolmaster,  but  he  es- 
caped, afterwards  went  to  America,  and  was 
never  heard  of  more.  But  his  accomplices  were 
imprisoned  and  punished  as  they  deserved.  He 
himself  had  been  the  leader  of  the  gang,  and 
would  certainly  have  been  rewarded  with  the 
rope,  if  he  had  been  caught. 

Stilling  was  struck  with  the  danger  in  which 
he  had  been  placed,  and  heartily  thanked  God 
for  having  preserved  him. 

He  now  passed  his  life  very  pleasantly,  and 
thought  that  the  season  of  his  sufferings  was 
certainly  at  an  end ;  in  the  whole  parish  there 
was  not  one  that  had  said  any  thing  to  his  pre- 
judice. But  what  a  storm  followed  this  calm  ! 
He  had  been  nearly  three  quarters  of  a  year  at 
Kleefeld,  when  he  received  a  summons  to  ap- 
pear, the  following  Tuesday  morning,  at  nine 
o'clock,  before  the  Consistory  at  Salen.  He 
was  surprised  at  this  uncommon  occurrence, 
though  nothing  unpleasant  suggested  itself  to 
him.  "Perhaps,"  thought  he,  41  some  new 
school  regulations  are  agreed  upon,  with  which 
they  intend  to  make  me  and  others  acquainted." 
And  therefore  he  went,  very  calmly,  on  the  day 
appointed,  to  Salen. 

On  entering  the  anteroom  of  the  consistorial 
chamber,  he  found  two  of  the  parishioners  stand- 
ing there,  whom  he  had  never  imagined  were 
opposed  to  him.  He  asked  them  what  was  the 
matter.  They  answered,  "  We  have  been  sum- 
moned, but  know  not  why."  They  were  then 
all  three  ordered  to  appear. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  at  the  window, 
stood  a  table  ;  on  one  side  of  it  sat  the  president, 
an  able  civilian,  who  was  small  of  stature,  of  a 
rather  long  and  meagre  countenance,  but  a  man 
of  an  excellent  character,  full  of  fire  and  life. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  table  sat  Meinhold,  the 
Inspector,  a  corpulent  man  with  a  full  oval  face, 
his  large  double  chin  resting  very  majestically 
upon  his  fine  well-smoothed  and  stiffened  ruff, 
that  it,  might  not  be  easily  disordered  ;  he  had  a 
beautifully  white  and  handsome  wig  on  his  head, 
and  a  black  silk  cloak  hung  down  his  back  ;  his 
eye-brows  were  lofty,  and  when  he  looked  at 
any  one,  he  elevated*  his  lower  eye-lids,  so  that 
his  eyes  twinkled  continually.  The  heels  of 
his  shoes  creaked  when  he  trod  upon  them,  and 
he  had  accustomed  himself,  whether  sitting  or 
standing,  to  tread  by  turns  upon  his  heels,  and 


STILLING'S  YO 


UTHFUL YEARS 


43 


make  them  creak.  Thus  sat  the  two  gentlemen 
tis  the  parties  entered,  whilst  the  secretary, 
6eated  behind  a  long  table,  looked  over  a  heap 
of  papers.  Stilling  placed  himself  at  the  fuot 
of  the  table,  but  the  two  men  stood  opposite  by 
the  wall. 

The  Inspector  cleared  his  throat,  turned  him- 
self towards  the  men,  and  said,  in  a  broad  pro- 
vincial accent,  "Is  that  your  schoolmaster"?" 

The  men. — "  Yes,  your  reverence  !" 

Meinhold. — "  So,  right !— you  are,  therefore, 
the  schoolmaster  of  Kleefeld  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  said  Stilling. 

Meinhold. — "  You're  a  fine  fellow,  aren't  you  1 
and  worthy  to  be  horsewhipped  out  of  the  coun- 
try!" 

"  Gently  !  gently  !"  interrupted  the  president ; 
"  audiatur  et  altera  pars  /" 

Meinhold. — "  Mr.  President,  this  affair  belongs 
<Ld  forum  ecclesiasticum,  in  which  you  have  noth- 
ing to  say  " 

The  president  was  vexed,  but  made  no  reply. 
The  Inspector  looked  at  Stilling  contemptuous- 
ly, and  said,  "How  he  stands  there,  the  mis- 
creant !" 

The  men  laughed  sneeringly  at  him.  Stilling 
could  not  endure  it  at  all ;  he  was  on  the  point 
of  exclaiming,  "  Like  Christ  before  the  high- 
priest,"  but  he  restrained  himself,  and  said, 
"What  have  I  donel  God  is  my  witness,  I 
am  innocent !" 

The  Inspector  laughed  sarcastically,  and  re- 
plied, as  if  he  himself  didn't  know  what  he  had 
committed,  "  Ask  your  own  conscience  !" 

"Mr.  Inspector,  my  conscience  absolves  me, 
and  He  that  judgeth  righteously  also  :  what  will 
take  place  here,  I  know  not." 

Meinhold. — "  Peace,  you  wicked  wretch  ! — 
Tell  me,  churchwarden,  what  is  your  accusa- 
tion !" 

The  men. — "  Your  reverence,  we  have  had  it 
protocoled  a  fortnight  ago." 

Meinhold. — "  Right !  it's  very  true." 

"And  this  protocol,"  said  Stilling,  "I  must 
have." 

Meinhold.— " What  will  he?  No!  he  shall 
never  have  it !" 

"  Cest  contre  Vordre  du  prince  I"  rejoined  the 
president,  and  left  the  room. 

The  Inspector  now  dictated,  and  said,  "  Write, 

secretary.    '  This  day  appeared  N  N  , 

churchwarden  of  Kleefeld,  and  N         N  , 

inhabitant  of  the  same,  contra,  their  schoolmas- 
ter Stilling.  Plaintiffs  refer  to  the  former  pro- 
tocol. The  schoolmaster  desired  extractum  pro- 
tocolli,  but  which  we,  for  sufficient  reasons,  have 
refused.' " 

The  Inspector  creaked  a  few  times  with  his 
heels,  put  his  hands  upon  his  sides,  and  said, 
"  You  may  now  go  home."  All  three  depart- 
ed. 

This  relation  is  most  strictly  true,  and  every 
thing  really  occurred  as  stated  above.  It  would 
be  a  disgrace  for  me,  were  I  to  fabricate  such  a 
character  as  belonging  to  the  Protestant  church  ; 
and  it  would  be  a  shame  for  me  to  expose  him, 
if  Meinhold  had  still  possessed  one  good  quality. 
But  let  every  young  theologian  reflect  himself 
in  this  example,  and  call  to  mind  the  words, 
"  He  that  will  be  the  greatest  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  servant." 

Stilling  was  quite  stunned  ;  he  did  not  under- 


I  stand  a  single  word  of  all  that  he  had  heard. 
The  whole  scene  was  like  a  dream  to  him  ;  ho 
arrived  at  Kleefeld  without  knowing  bow.  As 
soon  as  he  reached  it,  he  went  into  the  chapel, 
and  pulled 'the  bell ;  this  was  the  signal  for  the 
parishioners  to  assemble  in  all  haste  in  extraor- 
dinary cases  of  necessity.  All  the  men  imme- 
diately came  together  on  a  green  plot,  near  the 
chapel.  Stilling  related  to  them  circumstantial- 
ly the  whole  affair.  It  was  then  plainly  obvious 
how  the  different  dispositions  of  men  manifest 
themselves  differently,  from  one  and  the  same 
cause — some  raged,  others  were  splenetic,  oth- 
ers again  were  grieved,  whilst  some  felt  elated 
at  the  thing;  these  latter  cocked  their  hats  on 

one  side,  and  cried  out,  "The  d   himself 

shall  not  take  our  schoolmaster  from  us  !"  In 
the  midst  of  this  confusion  a  young  man  of  the 
name  of  Rehkopf  stole  away,  and  prepared  a 
letter  of  attorney  at  the  inn  ;  with  this  paper  in 
his  hand,  he  came  to  the  door,  and  cried  out, 
"Whoever  loves  God  and  the  schoolmaster,  let 
him  come  hither  and  sign  his  name!"  On 
which  the  whole  troop,  consisting  of  about  a 
hundred  peasants,  went  in  and  signed.  Reh- 
kopf, that  very  same  day,  went  with  twenty  of 
the  peasants  to  Salen,  to  the  house  of  the  In- 
spector. 

Rehkopf  neither  knocked  nor  rang  at  the  door 
of  the  parsonage,  but  went  straight  in,  and  the 
peasants  after  him.  The  footman  met  them  in 
the  hall  :  "  Good  people,  where  are  you  going  1" 
he  exclaimed;  "wait,  I  will  announce  you." 
Rehkopf  replied,  "  Go  and  fill  thy  wine-bottles  : 
we  can  announce  ourselves ;"  and  thus  the 
whole  company  marched  up-stairs,  and  went 
directly  into  the  Inspector's  room.  The  latter 
was  sitting  in  his  arm-chair ;  he  had  on  a  dam- 
ask morning-gown,  a  cotton  night-cap  on  his 
head,  and  a  fine  Leyden  cap  over  it ;  he  was 
drinking,  at  the  same  time,  his  cup  of  chocolate 
very  comfortably.  Alarmed,  he  put  down  his 
cup,  and  said,  "  What  now! — people,  what  d'ye 
want!" 

Rehkopf  answered,  "We  wish  to  know 
whether  our  schoolmaster  is  a  murderer,  an 
adulterer,  or  a  thief!" 

Meinhold. — •"  God  forbid  ! — who  says  he  is  1" 

Rehkovf. — "  Sir,  whether  you  say  it  or  not, 
you  treat  him  as  such  !  You  must  either  say 
and  prove  that  he  is  a  criminal,  and  in  that  case 
we  will  send  him  away  ourselves,  or  you  shall 
give  us  satisfaction  for  the  insult  offered  him, 
and  in  this  case  we  will  retain  him.  Look,  here 
is  our  authority." 

Meinhold.—"  Let  me  see  it." 

The  Inspector  took  it,  and  laid  hold  of  it  as  if 
he  intended  to  tear  it.  Rehkopf  stepped  up  to 
him.  took  it  out  of  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Sir,  let 
that  alone,  or  else  I  assure  you  you  will  burn 
your  fingers,  and  I  also." 

Meinhold. — "  What !  do  you  insult  me  in  my 
own  house  t" 

Rehkopf. — "  As  you  take  it,  sir,  insult  or  not." 

The  Inspector  touched  a  gentler  string,  and 
said,  "  Dear  people,  ye  know  not  what  a  bad 
man  your  schoolmaster  is  ;  let  me  act !" 

Rehkopf — "That  is  just  what  we  want  to 
know,  whether  he  is  a  bad  man  or  not." 

Meinhold. — "I  have  heard  terrible  things- 
terrible  things  of  the  fellow  !" 

Rehkopf — "  May  be  !    I  have  also  heard  that 


44  HEINRICH 

Mr.  Inspector  got  beastly  drunk,  when  he  lately 
held  visitation  at  Kleefeld." 

Meinhold. — "  What  1 — who  says  so  1 — will 
ye—" 

Rehkopf. — "  Hush  !  hush  !  I  have  heard  so  ; 
Mr.  Inspector  judges  from  hearsay,  and  so  may 
I." 

Meinhold. — "  Wait,  I'll  teach  you — " 

Rehkopf. — "  Sir,  you  shall  teach  me  nothing  ; 
and  with  regard  to  getting  drunk,  sir,  I  stood 
by  when  you  fell  down  on  the  other  side  of  the 
horse,  after  you  had  been  lifted  up  upon  it.  We 
hereby  declare  to  you,  in  the  name  of  the  con- 
gregation, that  we  will  not  let  our  schoolmaster 
be  taken  from  us,  until  he  is  convicted ;  and  so 
good-bye  to  you  !" 

They  then  went  home  together.  Rehkopf 
walked  in  the  streets  all  the  evening,  cougbing 
and  clearing  his  throat,  so  that  all  the  village 
might  hear  him. 

Stilling  now  saw  himself  again  involved  in 
the  greatest  labyrinth  ;  he  was  quite  aware  that 
he  would  be  obliged  to  remove,  and  what  would 
then  await  him  1  Meanwhile,  however,  he  as- 
certained the  whole  mystery  of  his  persecution. 

The  previous  schoolmaster  of  Kleefeld  had 
been  universally  beloved ;  he  had  engaged  to 
marry  a  young  woman  there,  and,  in  order  the 
better  to  support  himself,  had  sought  to  obtain 
a  larger  salary.  Therefore,  on  receiving  a  call 
to  another  place,  he  stated  to  the  people  that  he 
would  withdraw  unless  his  salary  were  in- 
creased, feeling  confident  that  they  would  not 
let  him  depart  for  the  sake  of  a  little  money. 
But  he  was  mistaken  ;  he  was  left  at  liberty  to 
go,  and  Stilling  was  chosen. 

It  is  easy  to  suppose  that  the  family  of  the 
young  woman  now  used  every  endeavour  to 
overthrow  Stilling;  and  this  they  effected  with 
all  secrecy,  by  loading  the  Inspector  with  valua- 
ble presents  the  year  through,  so  that  he  deter- 
mined, without  law  or  equity,  to  get  rid  of  him. 

Some  days  after  this  event,  the  president  sent 
to  request  him  to  come  to  him  ;  he  went.  The 
president  told  him  to  sit  down,  and  said,  "  Friend 
Stilling,  I  pity  you  from  my  heart,  and  I  have 
sent  for  you  to  give  you  the  best  advice  I  know. 
I  have  heard  that  your  peasants  have  signed  a 
letter  of  attorney,  in  order  to  protect  you  ;  how- 
ever, it  will  not  be  of  the  smallest  service  to 
you ;  for  the  matter  must  be  decided  in  the 
Upper  Consistory,  which  is  formed  entirely  of 
the  Inspector's  friends  and  relatives.  You  will 
gain  nothing  by  it,  except  that  you  will  make 
him  more  and  more  bitter  against  you,  and  your 
native  land  too  hot  for  you.  Therefore,  when 
yon  come  before  the  Consistory,  demand  your 
dismission." 

Stilling  thanked  him  for  this  faithful  advice, 
and  added.  "But  my  honor  suffers  from  it!" 
The  president  replied,  "  Let  me  take  care  of 
that."  The  schoolmaster  promised  to  follow 
his  advice,  and  went  home ;  but  he  told  no  one 
what  he  intended  to  do. 

When  the  Consistory  again  met,  he  was  sum- 
moned to  appear  with  his  opponents;  hut  Reh- 
kopf went  unbidden  to  Salen,  and  even  into 
the  anteroom  of  the  Consistory  court.  Stilling 
came,  and  was  first  called  up.  The  president 
beckoned  to  him  to  make  his  statement;  on 
which  the  schoolmaster  began  as  follows  : — 
"Mr.  Inspector,  I  see  that  efforts  are  made  to 


STILLING. 

I  render  my  situation  unpleasant  to  me  ;  I  there- 
fore request,  from  love  to  peace,  my  honorable 
dismission." 

The  Inspector  looked  at  him  with  a  cheerful 
smile,  and  said,  "Very  well,  schoolmaster! — 
that  you  shall  have,  and  an  attestation  besides,, 
which  is  incomparable." 

"  No,  Mr.  Inspector,  no  attestation !  Deep 
in  my  soul  there  is  an  attestation  and  a  justifi- 
cation written,  which  neither  death  nor  the  fire 
of  the  last  day  will  erase,  and  which  shall  even- 
tually blaze  in  the  face  of  my  persecutors  enough 
to  blind  them."  Stilling  said  this  with  glowing, 
cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes. 

The  president  smiled  at  him,  and  winked  at 
him  with  his  eyes.  But  the  Inspector  appeared 
as  though  he  heard  not,  and  read  a  document 
or  protocol. 

"  Now,"  said  the  president  to  the  Inspector, 
smilingly,  "  passing  sentence  belongs  to  you, 
but  the  execution  to  me.  Write,  secretary  : — 
'  This  day  appeared  schoolmaster  Stilling  of 
Kleefeld,  and  desired,  from  love  to  peace,  his 
honourable  dismission,  which  for  this  reason  is 
granted  him  ;  yet  with  the  condition  that  he 
bind  himself,  in  case  he  should  again  receive  a 
call,  or  be  wanted  for  any  other  employment, 
to  apply  his  excellent  talents  for  the  good  of  his 
country.'  " 

"  Right !"  said  the  Inspector.  "Now,  school- 
master, that  you  may  know  who  had  a  right  to 
reprove  you,  I  tell  you  that  you  have  prostituted 
the  holy  sacrament.  The  last  time  you  com- 
municated, you  laughed  satirically  after  receiv- 
ing it." 

Stilling  looked  him  in  the  face,  and  said, 
"Whether  I  laughed  or  .not,  I  know  not;  but 
this  I  know,  that  I  did  not  laugh  satirically." 

Meinhold. — "  No  one  ought  to  laugh  on  such 
a  sacred  occasion." 

Stilling  answered,  "Man  sees  that  which  is 
outward  ;  but  God  looks  at  the  heart.  I  cannot 
say  that  I  laughed,  but  I  well  know  what  prof& 
natw  sacrorum  is,  and  have  long  known  it." 

The  president  now  gave  orders  for  his  oppo- 
nents to  appear ;  they  came,  and  the  secretary 
was  commanded  to  read  to  them  the  protocol 
just  dictated.  They  looked  at  each  other  and 
were  ashamed. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  more  to  say !"  asked 
the  president.    They  answered  "No." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  the  worthy  man,  "I 
have  still  something  to  say.  It  belongs  to  the- 
Inspector  to  confirm  the  choice  of  a  schoolmas- 
ter, when  you  have  elected  one ;  but  it  is  my 
duty  to  take  care  that  peace  and  order  are  pre- 
served ;  on  which  account  I  command  you,  on, 
pain  of  a  hundred  guilders  fine,  not  to  choose 
the  former  schoolmaster,  but  an  entirely  im- 
partial one,  in  order  that  tranquillity  may  be 
restored." 

The  Inspector  was  startled  ;  he  looked  at  the 
president,  and  said,  "  In  that  way,  the  people 
will  never  be  quiet." 

"  Mr.  Inspector,"  replied  the  former,  "  that 
belongs  ad  forum  politicum,  and  does  not  con- 
cern you." 

Meanwhile,  Rehkopf  announced  himself.  He 
was  admitted.  He  desired,  in  the  name  of  his 
principals,  to  see  the  protocol.  The  secretary 
was  ordered  to  read  him  the  one  of  that  day. 
Rehkopf  looked  at  Stilling,  and  asked  him  if 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


45 


that  was  right.  Stilling  answered,  "A  man 
cannot  always  do  what  is  right,  hut  must  also 
sometimes  shut  his  eyes  and  do  wh  it  he  can, 
and  not  what  he  will ;  however,  I  thank  you  a 
thousand  times,  my  sincere  friend  !  God  will 
reward  you  !"  Ilehkopf  was  silent  awhile  ;  at« 
length  he  began,  and  said,  "  I  protest,  therefore, 
in  the  name  of  my  constituents,  against  the 
choice  of  the  former  schoolmaster,  and  desire 
that  this  protest  be  entered  in  the  protocol." 
44  Good,"  said  the  president ;  "  it  shall  be  done. 
I  have  already  forbidden  it  on  pain  of  a  hundred 
guilders  fine."  They  were  then  all  sent  home, 
and  ihe  affair  was  terminated. 

Stilling  was  thus  again  placed  in  painful  cir- 
cumstances ;  he  took  a  very  sorrowful  leave 
of  the  dear  people  at  Kleefeld,  and  did  not  go 
tiome,  hut  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Goldmann,  and  com- 
plained to  him  of  his  situation.  The  latter 
sympathised  cordially  with  him,  and  kept  him 
all  night  at  his  house.  In  the  evening  they 
conferred  together,  upon  what  would  be  the 
most  proper  course  for  Stilling  to  undertake. 
Mr.  Goldmann  perceived  Charly,  that  he  would 
have  little  enjoyment  at  \M  father's,  and  yet 
he  knew  of  no  other  step  which  he  could  take. 
At  length  something  occurred  to  him,  which 
seemed  pleasing  and  advantageous,  both  to  the 
clergyman  and  to  Stilling  himself. 

Ten  leagues  from  Salen,  lies  a  small  town 
called  Rothhagen,  and  young  Mr.  Goldmann,  a 
son  of  the  clergyman,  was  the  magistrate  there. 
At  Lahnburg,  which  is  two  leagues  beyond  that 
place,  Mr.  Schneeberg  was  court-chaplain  to 
two  noble  princesses,  and  he  was  a  cousin  of 
Mr.  Goldmann.  The  worthy  man  thought,  that 
if  he  sent  off  Stilling  with  letters  of  recommend- 
ation to  these  two  persons,  he  could  not  fail  of 
being  assisted.  Stilling  himself  hoped,  with 
certainty,  that  every  thing  would  turn  out  ac- 
cording to  his  wish.  The  affair  was  therefore 
thus  decided,  the  letters  of  recommendation 
were  prepared,  and  Stilling  set  out  the  next 
morning,  in  high  spirits. 

The  weather  was  that  day  very  cold  and 
rough  ;  besides  which,  travelling  was  rendered 
very  difficult,  on  account  of  the  miry  roads. 
Stilling,  however,  went  on  his  way  much  more 
pleasantly  than  if  he  had  been  returning,  in  the 
most  beautiful  weather  in  spring,  to  his  father's 
at  Leindorf.  He  felt  in  his  mind  so  profound  a 
peace,  and  such  a  consciousness  of  the  good 
pleasure  of  the  Father  of  men,  that  he  cheer- 
fully pursued  his  journey,  continually  offered 
up  thanks  and  ardent  ejaculations  to  God,  al- 
though he  was  wet  to  the  skin  by  the  rain. 
He  would  scarcely  have  felt  so  comfortable  if 
Meinhold  had  been  in  the  right. 

At  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  he  arrived, 
wet  and  weary,  at  Rothhagen.    He  asked  for  | 
the  house  of  Mr.  Goldmann  the  magistrate  ;  it 
was  pointed  out  to  him  ;  he  went  to  it  and  an- 
nounced himself.    Mr.  Goldmann  came  running 
down  the  stairs,  and  exclaimed,  •«  Welcome, 
cousin  Stilling  !  welcome  to  my  house  !"  He 
then  led  him  up-stairs.    His  lady  received  him  j 
likewise  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  made  ar-  , 
rangements  for  his  changing  his  clothes,  that 
his  own  might  be  dried  again  ;  after  which  they 
sat  down  to  supper.    During  supper,  Stilling 
was  requested  to  relate  his  history  ; — when  he 
had  finished,  Mr.  Goldmann  said,  w  Cousin,  ! 


there  must  be  something  in  your  deportment 
which  displeases  the  people  ;  otherwise  it  would 
be  impossible  to  be  so  unfortunate.  I  shall 
soon  perceive  it,  after  you  have  been  a  few  days 
with  me  ;  I  will  then  inform  you  of  it,  and  you 
must  endeavour  to  alter  it."  Stilling  smiled, 
and  replied,  "  I  shall  be  glad,  cousin,  il  you  will 
tell  me  my  faults ;  but  I  know  very  well  where 
the  difficulty  lies,  and  I  will  solve  it  for  you  : — 
I  do  not  live  in  the  vocation  for  which  I  am 
born  ;  I  do  every  thing  by  constraint,  and  there- 
fore there  is  no  blessing  with  it." 

Goldmann  shook  his  head,  and  answered, 
"Ha,  ha! — to  what  do  you  suppose  yourself 
born  ?  I  believe,  through  the  reading  of  ro- 
mances, you  have  fixed  impossible  tilings  in 
your  head.  The  fortunate  events  which  the 
imaginations  of  the  poets  invent  for  their  heroes, 
fix  themselves  firmly  in  the  mind  and  heart, 
and  excite  a  hunger  after  similar  wonderful 
changes." 

Stilling  was  silent  awhile,  and  looked  down  ; 
at  length  he  regarded  his  cousin  with  a  pene- 
trating eye,  and  said  emphatically,  "No! — in 
perusing  romances,  I  feci  merely;  it  seems  to 
me  as  if  every  thing  happened  to  myself  that  I 
read  ;  but  I  have  no  desire  to  experience  such 
adventures.  It  is  something  else,  dear  cousin. 
I  take  delight  in  the  sciences  ;  if  I  had  only  a 
vocation  in  which  I  could  gain  my  bread  by 
the  labor  of  my  head,  my  wishes  would  be  ful- 
filled." 

Goldmann  replied,  "  Well,  then,  examine  this 
impulse  impartially.  Are  not  fame  and  ambi- 
tion connected  with  it?  Have  you  not  been 
pleased  with  the  idea  of  being  able  to  appear  in 
a  fine  coat  and  the  dress  of  a  gentleman,  when 
the  people  will  be  obliged  to  bow  themselves 
before  you  and  take  off  their  hats  to  you,  and 
at  the  thought  of  becoming  the  pride  and  the 
head  of  your  family  1" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Stilling,  candidly  ;  "  I  cer- 
tainly feel  that,  and  it  causes  me  many  a  happy 
hour." 

"Just  so,"  continued  Goldmann;  "but  are 
you  really  in  earnest  to  be  a  virtuous  man  in 
the  world — to  serve  God  and  man — and  thus 
be  happy  also  in  the  life  to  come?  Now  do  not 
dissemble,  but  be  sincere.  Are  you  firmly  re- 
solved to  be  so  !" 

"O  yes!"  rejoined  Stilling;  "that  is  really 
the  polar  star  to  which  at  length  my  spirit,  after 
many  aberrations,  points,  like  the  needle  to  the 
north." 

"Now,  cousin,"  replied  Goldmann,  "I  will 
cast  your  nativity,  in  which  you  may  place  con- 
fidence. Listen  to  me.  God  abominates  no- 
thing so  much  as  vain  pride,  and  the  ambitious 
desire  of  seeing  our  fellow-creatures,  who  are 
often  better  than  we,  low  at  our  feet.  But  He 
loves  that  man  who,  in  quietness  and  conceal- 
ment, labors  for  the  good  of  mankind,  and  does 
not  wish  to  become  known.  By  his  gracious 
guidance.  He  at  length  brings  forward  such  an 
individual  and  places  him  on  high.  The  vir- 
tuous man  then  sits  there  without  the  risk  of 
being  cast  down  ;  and  because  the  burden  of 
such  an  elevation  oppresses  him,  he  regards  all 
about  him  as  being  equally  good  with  himself. 
See,  cousin,  this  is  real,  ennobled,  amended,  or 
regenerate  human  nature.  I  will  now  prophesy 
to  you,  what  will  become  of  you.    God,  by  a 


f. 


46 


HEINRICH  STILLING 


long  and  painful  train  of  events,  will  seek  to 
sweep  away  all  your  vain  desires  ;  if  He  suc- 
ceeds, you  will  at  length,  after  many  severe 
trials,  become  a  great  and  happy  man,  and  an 
excellent  instrument  in  the  hands  of  God.  But 
if  you  do  not  follow  his  guidance,  you  will  per- 
haps soon  soar  on  high,  and  experience  a  dread- 
ful fall,  which  will  make  the  ears  of  all  that 
hear  it  to  tingle." 

Stilling  knew  not  what  to  think ;  all  these 
words  were  as  if  Goldmann  had  read  them  in 
his  soul.  He  felt  the  truth  of  them  in  the  cen- 
tre of  his  heart,  and  said,  with  inward  emo- 
tion and  clasped  hands,  "  My  dear  cousin, 
what  you  say  is  true  ;  I  feel  that  such  will  be 
my  fate.'" 

Gold  mann  smiled,  and  concluded  the  conver- 
sation with  the  words,  "  I  begin  to  hope  you 
will  at  length  succeed." 

The  next  morning,  Justice  Goldmann  took 
Stilling  into  his  office,  and  set  him  to  copy ;  he 
immediately  saw  that  he  would  suit  excellently 
for  such  a  station  ;  and  if  his  lady  had  not  been 
a  little  miserly,  he  would  directly  have  engaged 
him  as  his  clerk. 

After  a  few  days,  he  went  to  Lahnburg.  The 
chaplain  was  gone  to  the  beautiful  menagerie 
adjacent.  Stilling  went  after  him,  and  sought 
for  him  there.  He  found  him  walking  in  a 
shady  path  ;  he  went  up  to  him,  presented  him 
the  letter,  and  saluted  him  from  the  Messieurs 
Goldmann,  father  and  son.  Mr.  Schneeberg 
knew  Stilling  as  soon  as  he  saw  him,  fur  they 
had  once  seen  and  spoken  to  each  other  at 
Salen.  After  reading  the  letter,  he  requested 
Stilling  to  walk  with  him  till  sunset,  and  mean- 
while relate  his  whole  history  to  him.  He  did 
so  with  his  wonted  animation,  so  that  the  chap- 
lain occasionally  wiped  his  eyes. 

In  the  evening,  after  supper,  Mr.  Schneeberg 
said  to  Stilling,  "  My  friend,  I  know  of  a  situa- 
tion for  you,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  you  will 
not  fail  in  obtaining.  There  is  only  one  ques- 
tion to  answer,  whether  you  feel  confident  of 
being  able  to  fill  it  with  honour  1 

44  The  princesses  have  in  the  neighbourhood 
a  productive  mine,  with  a  smelting-house  be- 
longing to  it.  They  must  have  a  person  there 
who  understands  mining  and  smelting,  and  is, 
at  the  same  time,  faithful  and  honest,  and  who 
must  watch  over  and  attend  to  their  Serene 
Highnesses'  interest  on  all  occasions.  The 
present  manager  retires  next  spring,  and  it 
would  then  be  the  time  to  enter  upon  this  ad- 
vantageous situation.  You  would  there  have 
house,  yard,  garden,  and  ground  free,  besides 
three  hundred  guilders  yearly  salary.*  I  have 
therefore  two  questions  to  ask  ;  do  you  under- 
stand mining  and  smelting  sufficiently,  and  can 
you  trust  yourself  to  undertake  such  a  responsi- 
ble situation  1" 

Stilling  could  not  conceal  his  heartfelt  joy. 
He  answered,  44  With  respect  to  the  first,  I 
have  been  brought  up  amongst  charcoal-burners, 
miners  and  stnelters  ;  and  that  in  which  I  may 
be  deficient,  I  can  perfect  myself  in  during 
the  approaching  winter.  In  writing  and  ac- 
counts, I  shall  not  be  wanting;  with  regard  to 
the  second,  that  is  a  question  to  which  my 

*  The  value  of  a  guilder  is  about  twenty-pence  in  Eng- 
lish money. 


whole  soul  answers  in  the  affirmative  :  I  detest 
all  unfaithfulness,  as  I  do  Satan  himself." 

The  chaplain  replied,  44 1  willingly  believe 
that  you  will  not  be  wanting  in  abundant  abili- 
ty ;  of  that  I  have  already  heard,  when  I  was 
•  in  Salen  and  the  neighbourhood.  But  are  yotf 
so  confident  with  respect  to  fidelity  1  This  is 
a  point  with  which  you  are  still  unacquainted. 
I  allow  that  you  hale  every  conscious  act  of  in- 
fidelity like  Satan  himself;  but  there  is  here  a 
peculiar  kind  of  prudent  faithfulness  required, 
with  which  you  cannot  be  yet  acquainted,  be- 
cause you  have  had  no  experience  of  it.  For 
instance,  supposing  you  were  placed  in  such  a 
situation,  and  all  at  once,  you  were  out  of  mo- 
ney ;  you  needed  something  for  your  house- 
keeping, but  had  it  not  yourself,  and  knew  not 
how  to  obtain  it ;  would  you  not  go,  under  such 
circumstances,  to  your  employer's  cash,  and 
take  what  was  needful?" 

44  Yes,"  said  Stilling  ;  44  that  I  should  do  bold- 
ly, as  long  äs  I  had  any  salary  due  to  me." 

44 1  agree  to  that,  for  the  present,"  rejoined 
Schneeberg;  44 but^uch  a  circumstance  makes 
the  individual,  wh^  often  repeated,  still  bolder, 
and  he  becomes  accustomed  to  it ;  the  first 
year,  he  is  twenty  guilders  in  arrear  ;  the  sec- 
ond, forty  ;  the  third,  eighty  ;  the  fourth,  two 
hundred  ;  and  so  on,  until  he  must  either  run 
away,  or  else  be  treated  as  a  rogue.  Do  not 
think  there  is  no  fear  of  that! — Your  disposi- 
tion is  kind — and  you  will  be  visited  both  by 
high  and  low,  who  will  soon  perceive  it.  You 
will  not  be  able  to  do  with  a  single  bottle  of 
wine  daily,  and  this  article  alone  will  take  from 
you  yearly  a  hundred  guilders,  without  inclu- 
ding any  other  contingency  ;  the  clothes  for 
yourself  and  your  household  another  hundred. 
Now,  do  you  think  you  will  be  able  to  make 
ends  meet  with  the  remaining  hundred  guild- 
ers ?" 

Stilling  answered,  44  Going  beyond  that  must 
be  avoided." 

44  Yes,"  continued  the  chaplain,  44  that  must 
certainly  he  avoided  ;  but  how  will  you  accom- 
plish it?" 

Stilling  replied,  44 1  would  frankly  say  to  the 
people  that  visited  me,  4  Gentlemen,  or  friends, 
my  circumstances  do  not  permit  me  to  offer 
you  wine  ;  with  what  else  can  I  wait  upon 
you?'  " 

Mr.  Schneeberg  laughed.  44  Well,"  said  he, 
44  that  would  do  ;  however,  it  is  more  difficult 
than  you  suppose.  Hear  me.  I  will  tell  you 
something  that  will  be  useful  to  you  all  your 
life  long,  whatever  you  may  eventually  be  in 
the  world.  Let  your  outward  dress,  and  de- 
portment in  clothing,  eating,  drinking,  and  be- 
haviour, be  always  moderate,  and  as  a  com- 
moner; no  one  will  then  require  more  of  you 
than  your  appearance  indicates.  When  I  en- 
ter a  handsomely-furnished  room,  and  find  a 
man  in  a  costly  dress.  I  do  not  ask  long  of  what 
rank  he  is,  but  expect  a  bottle  of  wine  arid  con- 
fectionary ;  bu-t  if  I  come  into  a  moderately- 
furnished  room,  to  a  man  in  the  dress  of  a  com- 
moner, I  expect  nothing  more  than  a  glass  of 
beer  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco." 

Stilling  acknowledged  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment; he  laughed,  and  said, ,4  This  is  a  lecture 
1  shall  never  forget." 

"And  yet,"  continued  the  chaplain,  44  it  is 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


47 


more  difficult  to  practise  than  is  supposed. 
The  old  Adam  pleases  himself  so  easily  when 
the  individual  gets  some  little  honorable  post. 
O  how  difficult  it  is  in  such  a  case  always  to  re- 
main the  old  Stilling?  He  then  takes  pleasure 
in  being  c.dled  Mr.  Stilling,  would  gladly  have 
also  a  little  lace  on  his  waistcoat;  and  this 
gradually  increases,  until  the  man  sticks  fast, 
and  knows  not  how  to  help  himself.  Now  my 
friend — in  one  word,  1  will  do  what  I  can  that 
you  may  become  steward  of  the  mine." 

Sidling  could  not  skep  the  whole  night  for 
joy.  He  already  saw  himself  inhabiting  a  hand- 
some house;  beheld  a  number  of  fine  books 
standing  in  a  room  by  themselves  ;  various  beau- 
tiful mathematical  instruments  ranged  in  or- 
der— in  short,  his  whole  imagination  was  al- 
ready occupied  with  his  future  happy  situation. 

He  continued  the  next  day  at  Lain. burg.  The 
chaplain  gave  himself  all  possible  trouble  to  ob- 
tain an  assurance  for  Stilling  with  respect  to  the 
employment  in  question,  and  he  was  successful. 
The  whole  affair  was,  so  to  speak,  conclu- 
ded ;  and  Stilling  returned  to  Mr.  Goldmann  at 
Rothhagen  intoxicated  with  joy.  He  related 
the  whole  affair  to  him.  Mr.  Goldmann  was 
obliged  to  laugh  heartily  on  hearing  Stilling 
speak  with  so  much  enthusiasm.  After  he  had 
finished,  the  justice  began  :  "  O  cousin  !  cousin  ! 
what  will  at  length  become  of  you  1  This  is  a 
situation  which  God  will  give  you  in  his  wrath, 
if  you  attain  it ;  this  is  just  the  way  to  ruin  you 
entiiely,  which  I  will  now  prove  to  you.  As 
soon  as  you  are  there,  all  the  courtiers  will  be- 
gin to  visit  you  and  to  make  themselves  merry 
with  you  ;  if  you  will  not  suffer  that,  they  will 
overthrow  you  as  soon  as  they  can  ;  and  if  you 
give  them  'their  will,  your  income  will  not  be 
half  sufficient.'' 

Stilling  was  frightened  at  hearing  his  cousin 
speak  thus  ;  he  afterwards  told  him  all  the  good 
advice  the  chaplain  had  given  him. 

"  Preachers  are  seldom  acquainted  with  these 
things,"  said  Mr.  Goldmann;  "they  moralize 
well,  and  a  worthy  preacher  may  also  live  mor- 
ally well  in  his  circle  ;  but  we,  laity,  cannot  act 
in  such  a  manner,  nor  do  men  tempt  the  clergy 
so  easily  as  other  people.  It  is  easy  for  them 
to  talk  !  Hear  me,  cousin  ,  all  moral  sermons 
are  not  worth  a  pepper-corn  ;  the  understanding 
never  determines  our  actions  when  the  passions 
are  pretty  strongly  interested  ;  the  heart  always 
hangs  a  cloak  about  the  thing,  and  persuades 
us  that  black  is  white.  Cousin,  I  will  tell  you 
a  greater  truth  than  friend  Schneeberg : — to 
him  that  docs  not  attain  to  a  strong  and  ardent 
lone  to  God%  all  moralizing  is  utterly  of  no  avail. 
The  love  of  God  alone  enables  vs  to  become  mor- 
ally good.  Let  this  be  a  memento  for  you, 
cousin  Stilling;  and  now  I  beg  yon  to  give  Mr. 
Steward  of  the  mines  his  honourable  dismission, 
and  welcome  the  poor  needle  with  joy,  until 
God  brings  you  forth  to  the  light.  You  will 
continue  my  dear  cousin  Stilling,  even  though 
you  are  but  a  tailor  Surnma.  summarvm  !  I  will 
reverse  the  winde  affair  as  soon  as  I  go  to 
Lahnburg." 

Stilling  from  heartfelt  emotion,  could  not  re- 
strain his  tears.  He  feit  inwardly  so  happy, 
that  he  could  not  express  it.  "  Oh,"  said  he. 
"cousin,  that  is  true  !  But  from  whom  shall  1 
obtain  strength  to  resist  my  unholy  pride!  A 


few  days,  or  years,  perhaps,  and  I  am  no  more. 
What  will  it  then  avail  me  to  have  been  a  great 
and  reputable  man  in  the  world!  Yes,  it  is 
true  ? — my  heart  is  the  falsest  creature  on  God's 
earth  ;  I  am  always  thinking  that  my  intention 
is  merely  to  serve  God  and  my  neighbour  with 
my  knowledge  ;  while  in  reality,  it  is  not  the 
case.  1  only  desire  to  be  a  great  man,  to  climb 
on  high,  in  order  solely  that  I  may  fall  the  deep- 
er. O  where  shall  I  get  strength  to  overcome 
myself!" 

Goldmann  could  no  longer  contain  himself. 
He  wept,  fell  upon  Stilling's  neck,  and  said, 
"  Noble,  noble  cousin  !  take  courage ;  God  will 
not  forsake  such  a  faithful  heart.  He  will  be 
your  father.  Strength  is  obtained  only  by  la- 
bor; —  the  smith  can  turn  about  a  hundred- 
weight of  ir*>n  under  his  hammer,  as  if  it  were 
a  light  staff,  which  is  impossible  to  either  of 
us ;  and  thus  a  man  who  has  been  exercised  by 
trial,  can  overcome  more  than  a  little  darling 
child  that  has  always  sucked  the  breast,  and 
has  experienced  nothing.  Be  encouraged,  cous- 
in ;  rejoice  when  afflictions  come,  and  believe 
that  you  are  then  in  God's  university,  who  i3 
willing  to  make  something  of  you  !" 

Stilling  set  off  therefore  the  next  morning, 
comforted  and  strengthened,  on  his  return  to 
his  native  province.  Parting  from  Mr.  Gold- 
mann  cost  him  many  tears ;  he  believed  that 
he  was  the  most  virtuous  and  upright  man  ho 
had  ever  seen  ;  and  I  think,  even  now,  that  Stil- 
ling was  in  the  right.  A  man  like  this  may  well 
be  called  Guldmann; — as  he  spoke,  so  he  also 
acted  ;  if  he  is  still  alive  and  reads  this,  he  will 
shed  tears,  and  his  feelings  will  be  angelic. 

On  his  journey,  Stilling  firmly  resolved  to  con- 
tinue quietly  at  his  needle,  and  cherish  no  more 
vain  wishes  ;  but  those  hours  when  he  would 
be  at  ljberty,  he  would  again  devote  to  study. 
However  as  he  approached  Leindorf,  he  felt  his 
melancholy  again  announce  itself.  He  feared, 
in  particular,  the  reproaches  of  his  father,  so 
that  he  entered  the  room  very  downcast. 

Wilhelm  sat  at  his  needle  with  an  apprentice, 
at  the  table.  He  saluted  his  father  and  mother, 
sat  down,  and  was  silent.  Wilhelm  was  also 
silent  for  awhile  ;  at  length  he  laid  down  his 
thimble,  folded  his  arms  together,  and  began  : — 
Heinrich,  I  have  heard  every  thing  that  has 
happened  to  thee  at  Kleefeld  ;  I  will  not  reproach 
thee  ;  but  this  I  see  clearly,  that  it  is  not  God's 
will  thou  shouldst  be  a  schoolmaster.  There- 
fore go  quietly  to  work  as  a  tailor,  and  take 
pleasure  in  it.  There  will  still  be  many  an 
hour  in  which  thou  mayest  proceed  with  thy 
other  affairs." 

Stilling  was  much  vexed  at  himself,  and  con- 
firmed the  resolution  he  had  formed  on  the  way. 
He  therefore  said  to  his  father.  "Yes.  you  are 
quite  in  the  right ;  I  will  pray  that  the  Lord  our 
God  would  change  my  mind."  So  saying,  he 
look  his  seat,  and  applied  himself  to  his  needle. 
Tl  is  took  place  a  fortnight  after  Michaelmas 
1760,  after  he  had  entered  his  twenty-first 
year. 

If  he  had  had  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  la- 
bor at  his  needle,  he  would  have  been  satisfied, 
und  have  submitted  to  circumstances  ;  but  his 
father  set  him  to  thresh.  The  whole  winter 
through,  he  was  obliged  to  rise  from  betl  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  go  to  the  cold  thresh- 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


48 

mg  floor.  The  flail  was  dreadful  to  him.  His 
hands  were  full  of  blisters,  and  his  limbs  trem- 
bled from  pain  and  weariness.  This,  however, 
availed  him  nothing  ;  perhaps  his  father  would 
have  had  pity  upon  him,  but  his  mother-in-law 
would  have  every  one  in  the  house  earn  their 
food  and  clothing.  To  this  was  added  another 
trying  circumstance.  Stilling  could  never  sub- 
sist on  his  pay  as  a  schoolmaster,  which  is  re- 
-markabiy  small  in  that  country  ;  twenty-five  rix 
dollars*  a  year  being  the  most  that  is  given  to 
any  one  ;  meat  and  drink  are  provided  him  by  the 
peasants  in  rotation.  Hence  the  schoolmasters 
all  know  a  trade,  which  they  follow  out  of  school- 
hours,  in  order  the  better  to  gain  a  subsistence. 
But  this  was  no  system  of  Selling's  ;  he  knew 
how  to  employ  his  leisure  time  more  agreeably  ; 
besides  which,  he  sometimes  bought  a  book  or 
some  other  article  which  suited  his  purpose  ; — 
be  therefore  fell  into  necessitous  circumstances  : 
his  clothes  were  mean  and  much  worn,  so  that 
he  looked  like  one  who  aimed  at  what  he  was 
not  able  to  accomplish. 

Wilhelm  was  careful,  and  his  wife  still  more 
so ;  hut  they  had  several  children,  one  after 
another,  so  that  the  father  had  trouble  enough 
to  support  himself  and  his  family.  He  thought 
his  son  was  tall  and  strong  enough  to  maintain 
himself.  Now,  "as  this  did  not  succeed  according 
to  his  wish,  the  good  man  became  melancholy, 
and  began  to  doubt  whether  his  son  would  not 
at  length  turn  out  a  disorderly  good-for-noth- 
ing. He  began  to  withdraw  his  affection  from 
him,  treated  him  harshly,  and  compelled  him  to 
do  all  kinds  of  work,  whether  it  was  painful  to 
him  or  not.  This  gave  the  last  blow  to  poor 
Stilling.  He  saw  that  he  should  not  be  able  to 
endure  it  long.  He  had  a  horror  of  his  father's 
house ;  on  which  account,  he  sought  opportu- 
nity to  work  as  journeyman  with  other  master- 
tailors,  and  this  his  father  willingly  permitted. 

Cheerful  moments,  however,  occasionally  still 
intervened.  Johann  Stilling,  on  account  of  his 
great  ability  in  geometry,  mine-surveying,  and 
mechanics,  as  well  as  his  fidelity  to  his  country, 
was  made  president  of  the  board  of  commerce, 
for  which  reason  he  transferred  the  land-meas- 
uring business  to  his  brother  Wilhelm,  who 
thoroughly  understood  it.  When  he  went  there- 
fore for  some  weeks  into  the  Mark  country  to 
measure  and  divide  woods,  hills,  and  estates, 
he  took  his  son  with  him  ;  and  this  was  just 
what  Stilling;<liked.  At  such  times  he  was  in 
his  element,  and  his  father  rejoiced  that  his  son 
had  superior  ideas  of  the  matter  to  himself. 
This  frequently  gave  occasion  to  a  variety  of 
of  discussions  and  projects  which  they  inter- 
changed in  their  solitude.  However,  all  was 
fruitless,  and  ended  in  mere  words.  People 
who  had  much  to  do,  often  observed  him,  and 
might  have  employed  him  occasionally  ;  but  his 
mean  dress  displeased  everyone  who  saw  him, 
and  they  secretly  judged  him  to  be  nothing  bel- 
ter than  a  ragamuffin.  He  saw  this  ;  and  it 
caused  him  intolerable  pain.  He  himself  loved 
a  cleanly  and  decent  looking  coat  beyond  meas- 
ure; but  his  father  could  not  provide  him  with 
one,  and  let  him  want. 

These  seasons  were  brief  and  transitory  ;  and 


*  A  rix-dollnx  is  nbout  four  shillings  and  six-pence 
English. 


as  soon  as  he  returned  home,  his  wretchedness 
began  again.  Stilling  then  immediately  sought 
out  some  other  master,  in  order  to  escape  the 
the  yoke.  His  earnings,  however,  were  by  no 
means  sufficient  to  clothe  him  decently. 

On  one  occasion,  after  being  at  work  in  a 
neighbouring  village,  he  returned  home  with  the 
intention  of  fetching  something.  He  expected 
nothing  unpleasant,  and  therefore  cheerfully  en- 
tered the  room.  His  father  jumped  up  as  soon 
as  he  saw  him,  and  tried  to  throw  him  on  the 
ground  ;  but  Stilling  seized  his  father  with  both 
his  arms,  held  him  so  that  he  could  not  move, 
and  looked  him  in  the  face  with  an  expression 
of  countenance  enough  to  have  rent  a  rock. 
And,  truly,  if  ever  he  felt  the  power  of  suffering 
in  all  its  violence  upon  his  heart,  it  was  at  that 
moment.  Wilhelm  could  not  bear  this  look — 
he  sought  to  tear  himself  loose,  but  could  not 
move  ;  the  arms  and  hands  of  his  son  were  like 
iron,  and  convulsively  closed.  "  Father,"  said 
he,  with  a  gentle,  and  yet  piercing  voice — 
"father ! — your  blood  flows  in  my  veins,  and  the 
blood — the  blood  of  a  departed  angel.  Provoke 
me  not  to  anger  ! — I  honour  you — I  love  you — 
but — (here  he  let  his  father  loose,  sprang  to  the 
window,  and  exclaimed,)  I  could  cry  out,  till  the 
earth  shook  upon  its  axis,  and  the  stars  tremb- 
led." He  then  stept  nearer  his  father  again, 
and  said,  with  a  soft  voice,  "  Father,  what  have 
I  done  that  is  culpable  !"  Wilhelm  put  his  hands 
before  his  face,  sobbed  and  wept;  but  Stilling 
went  into  a  remote  corner  of  the  house  and  sob- 
bed aloud. 

The  next  morning  early,  Stilling  packed  up 
his  bundle,  and  said  to  his  father,  "J  will  leave 
the  country,  and  travel  as  a  journeyman  tailor; 
let  me  go  in  peace  ;"  and  the  tears  again  flowed 
down  his  cheeks.  "  No,"  said  Wilhelm,  w  I  will 
not  let  thee  go  at  present,"  and  wept  also.  Stil- 
ling could  not  bear  that,  and  therefore  stayed. 
This  took  place  in  the  autumn  of  1761. 

Shortly  afterwards,  there  was  a  master-tailor 
at  Florenburgh  who  desired  to  have  Stilling  to 
work  with  him  a  few  weeks.  He  went,  and 
helped  the  man  at  his  trade.  The  Sunday  fol- 
lowing, he  went  to  Tiefenbach,  to  visit  his  grand- 
mother. He  found  her  sitting  in  her  wonted 
place,  behind  the  stove.  She  soon  recognised 
him  by  his  voice,  for  she  was  stone  blind,  and 
therefore  could  not  see  him.  "  Heinrich,"  said 
she,  "come,  sit  down  here  beside  me."  Stilling 
did  so.  "I  have  heard,"  continued  she,  "that 
thy  father  treats  thee  harshly  ;  is  thy  mother  to 
blame  for  if?"  "No,"  said  Stilling;  "she  is 
not  to  blame,  but  the  painful  circumstances  in 
which  I  am  placed." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  the  venerable  woman  ; 
"  it  is  outwardly  dark  around  me,  but  so  much 
the  lighter  in  my  heart.  I  know  that  thy  fate 
will  be  like  that  of  a  travailing  woman ;  with 
much  pain,  thou  will  bring  forth  that  which  thou 
art  to  become.  Thy  late  grandfather  foresaw  all 
this.  I  shall  never  forget  how  we  lay  one  even- 
ing in  bed,  and  could  not  sleep.  On  which 
we  began  to  talk  of  our  children,  and  also  of 
thee, — for  thou  art  my  son,  and  I  have  brought 
thee  up.  'Yes,  Margaret,'  said  Ebert,  '  could  I 
but.  live  to  see  what  would  become  of  the  boy! 
I  know  not.  —Wilhelm  will  yet  fall  into  difficul- 
ties ;  religious  as  he  now  is,  he  will  not  perse- 
i  vere  in  it ;  he  will  continue  a  pious  and  honest 


t 


STILLING'S  YOUT 

man,  but  he  will  still  have  something  to  pass  I 
through ;  for  he  loves  to  save,  and  is  fond  of 
money  and  wealth.  He  will  marry  again,  and 
his  infirm  feet  will  then  be  unable  to  follow  his 
head.  But  the  boy  ! — -he  has  no  desire  for  riches 
but  only  loves  books,  and  upon  these  a  man  can- 
not live  who  is  only  a  peasant.  How  the  two 
will  agree  together  I  know  not ;  but  that  the  lad 
will  at  length  be  successful,  is  certain.  If  I 
make  an  axe,  I  mean  to  hew  something  with  it 
and  in  that  for  which  the  Lord  creates  man,  He 
wül  also  make  use  of  him  !'  " 

Stilling  felt  as  though  he  was  sitting  in  some 
dark  sanctuary,  listening  to  an  oracle  ;  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  were  transported  out  of  himself, 
and  from  the  gloomy  sepulchre  of  his  grandfaher 
heard  the  well-known  voice  say,  "  Courage, 
Heinrich ;  the  God  of  thy  fathers  will  be  with 
thee !" 

He  continued  to  converse  awhile  with  his 
grandmother.  She  admonished  him  to  be  pa- 
tient and  magnanimous  ;  he  promised  to  be  so, 
with  tears,  and  took  leave  of  her.  On  coming 
before  the  door,  he  reviewed  the  old  romantic 
scenery  around  him.  The  autumnal  sun  shone 
clearly  and  beautifully  upon  it ;  and  it  being  still 
early  in  the  day,  he  determined  to  visit  all  these 
places  once  more  and  return  by  way  of  the 
old  castle  to  Florenburgh.  He  went  therefore 
up  the  court,  and  into  the  forest ;  he  still  found 
all  the  scenes  where  he  had  enjoyed  so  much 
gratification  ;  but  one  bush  was  grown  crooked, 
and  another  pulled  up ;  and  this  grieved  him. 
He  walked  slowly  up  the  hill  to  the  castle ; — 
even  there,  several  of  the  walls  were  fallen 
down  which  were  still  standing  in  his  younger 
days  ;  everything  was  changed, — only  the  elder- 
tree  on  the  wall  to  the  west  still  retained  its 
place. 

He  stationed  himself  upon  the  highest  point 
between  the  ruins,  from  whence  he  had  a  com- 
manding view  all  around.  He  surveyed  the  road 
from  Tiefenbach  to  Zellberg  ;  and  all  the  charm- 
ing mornings  passed  before  his  soul,  with  the 
high  enjoyment  which  he  had  felt  all  the  way 
up.  He  then  looked  northwards  at  the  distance, 
and  saw  a  high  blue  hill ;  he  remembered  that 
this  hill  was  near  Dorlingen,  and  all  the  scenes 
which  took  place  there  presented  themselves 
clearly  to  hi-s  mind — what  happened  to  him  in 
the  smoke-room,  and  every  thing  else  he  had 
suffered  there.  He  now  looked  westwards,  and 
saw  the  Leindorf  meadows  in  the  distance.  He 
started,  and  a  shudder  pervaded  every  limb. 
He  saw  southwards  the  hill  of  Preisingen,  and 
the  heath  where  Anna  sang  her  song.  To- 
wards the  southwest,  the  plains  of  Kleefeld  pre- 
sented themselves  to  his  eye  ;  and  thus,  at  one 
view,  he  took  a  retrospect  of  his  short  and  pain- 
ful life.  He  sank  upon  his  knees,  wept  aloud, 
and  prayed  ardently  to  the  Almighty  for  mercy 
and  compassion.  He  then  rose  up,  his  soul 
swimming  in  emotion  and  sensibility ;  he  sat 
down  near  the  elder-tree,  took  out  his  pocket- 
book,  and  wrote : — 

"  Listen,  all  ye  feather'd  throng, 
To  your  lovers'  mournful  song; 
Shrubs  and  trees  of  every  size, 
Hear  the  hnguage  of  my  sighs; 
Wilher'd  flowers,  once  so  gay, 
Listen  to  my  parting  lay  ! 
Mother-angel !  dost  thou  not 
Hover  o'er  this  verdant  plot  1 


FUL  YEARS.  49 

Or,  whilst  shines  the  moon's  pale  ray, 
Radiant,  near  these  grass  seats,  stay  ; 
Where  thy  heart  so  oft  o'erflow'd, 
Whilst  thy  blood  within  me  flow'd  ? 
Does,  perhaps,  thy  lucid  eye 
Mark  the  sun's  declining  beams  1 
Or  from  out  the  azure  sky, 
Which  with  stars  unnumber'd  teems, 
Sometimes  cast  a  look  on  me, 
When  my  joys  and  comforts  flee  1 
Hast  thou  not  to  soothe  me  press'd, 
When  my  eyes  with  tears  did  melt  ? 
When,  my  heart  with  woe  distress'd, 
I  a  silent  kiss  have  felt? 
Then  I  drank,  with  heavenly  zest, 
Rapture  from  my  mother's  breast. 
Now  on  Luna's  gentle  ray, 
Grave  and  calm,  thou  soar'st  away; 
Past  the  stars  thou  tak'st  thy  flight, 
Gain'st  the  lofty  domes  of  light ;  pi 
And  thy  chariot,  white  and  blue, 
Turns  to  drops  of  purest  dew. 
Father  Stilling's  silver  hair 
Curls  in  the  eternal  breeze ; 
And  his  star-bright  eye  so  fair, 
Doris,  gently  floating,  sees, 
Like  a  golden  cloud  along, 
Far  from  this  world's  busy  throng. 
Tall  his  form,  and  firm  his  pace, 
Now  he  hears  his  favorite's  woes — 
How  to  sorrow  he  gives  place, 
Nor  from  suffering  finds  repose. 
Bending  low,  he  then  regards 
What  the  priestly  shield  awards.* 
Light  and  justice  beam  around  ; — 
Father  Stilling  sees  with  joy, 
Though  the  trials  may  abound 
Of  his  dear  and  darling  boy. 
Yet  at  length  the  sun  will  shed 
Rays  unclouded  on  his  head." 

Stilling  now  rose  up  pleased,  and  put  his 
pocket-book  into  his  pocket.  He  saw  that  the 
edge  of  the  sun  trembled  on  the  seven  hills. 
Something  shuddered  around  him ;  he  started, 
and  hastened  away,  nor  has  he  ever  returned 
thither  since  that  time. 

During  the  few  weeks  he  spent  at  Florenburgh, 
his  mind  was  in  a  very  peculiar  state.  He  was 
melancholy;  but  it  was  a  melancholy. mingled 
with  such  delicate  sweetness,  that  he  could  have 
wished  to  be  always  melancholy  in  such  a  man- 
ner. The  cause  of  this  singular  state  he  could 
never  discover.  I  believe,  however,  the  domes- 
tic circumstances  of  his  master  contributed 
much  to  it ;  a  peaceful  harmony  reigned  in  the 
house; — what  the  one  desired,  the  other  desired 
also.  He  had,  besides,  a  grown-up  and  well- 
educated  daughter,  who  might  justly  have  been 
reckoned  amongst  the  greatest  beauties  of  the 
whole  country.  She  sang  incomparably  well, 
and  possessed  a  stock  of  many  beautiful  songs. 

Stilling  felt  that  he  sympathised  with  this 
girl,  and  she  also  with  him,  but  without  any  in- 
clination to  marriage.  They  could  sit  hours  to- 
gether and  sing,  or  tell  each  other  tales,  with- 
out any  feeling  intervening  of  a  more  intimate 
nature  than  a  mere  tender  friendship.  But  what 
might  have  resulted  from  it,  if  this  intercourse 
had  lasted  long,  I  will  not  investigate.  Stilling, 
however,  enjoyed  at  that  period  many  a  pleasant 
hour ;  and  this  pleasure  would  have  been  com- 
plete, if  he  had  not  needed  to  return  to  Leindorf. 

One  Sunday  evening,  Stilling  sat  at  the  table 
with  Lisette — for  so  the  girl  was  called — and 


*  The  author's  idea  is,  that  in  the  mansions  of  ihe 
blessed,  the  will  of  God  is  made  known  to  them  by  means 
of  a  tablet,  in  a  similar  manner  to  the  Urim  and  Thum- 
inim  in  the  breast-plate  of  the  Jewish  high-priest.— Abt« 
of  Uu  TVanslatrr. 


50  HEINRICH 

they  sang  together.  Now  whether  the  song 
made  an  impression  upon  her,  or  something  else 
of  a  gloomy  nature  occurred  to  her,  I  know  not ; 
— hut  she  began  to  weep  bitterly.  Stilling  asked 
her  what  was  the  matter  ; — she  said  nothing, 
but  rose  up,  and  went  away  ;  nor  did  she  return 
during  the  evening.  From  that  period  she  con- 
tinued melancholy,  without  Stilling's  ever  being 
able  to  ascertain  the  cause.  This  alteration 
disturbed  him  ;  and  on  another  occasion,  when 
they  were  again  alone,  he  plied  her  so  close, 
that  she  at  length  began  as  follows  : — "  Hein- 
rich, I  cannot  and  dare  not  tell  you  what  is 
the  matter  with  me ;  but  I  will  relate  some- 
thing to  you.  There  was  once  a  girl,  who  was 
good  and  pious,  and  had  no  desire  for  a  disso- 
lute life  ;  but  she  had  a  tender  heart ;  she  was 
also  handsome  and  virtuous.  She  stood  one 
evening  at  her  bed  room  window ;  the  full 
moon  shone  beautifully  into  the  court ;  it  was 
summer,  and  every  thing  outside  was  still.  She 
felt  a  wish  to  go  out  a  little.  She  went,  there- 
fore, out  of  the  back-door  into  the  court,  and 
out  of  the  court  into  a  meadow  adjoining.  Here 
she  sat  down  under  a  hedge,  in  the  shade,  and 
sang  in  a  low  voice, 

Begone,  tormenting  thoughts !' 

(This  was  the  very  song  which  Lisette  sang 
with  Stilling,  the  Sunday  evening  when  she  be- 
came so  extremely  melancholy.)  After  she  had 
sung  a  couple  of  verses,  a  youth,  with  whom 
she  was  well  acquainted,  came  to  her,  saluted 
her,  and  asked  her  whether  she  would  not  walk 
with  him  a  little  down  the  meadow.  She  was 
at  first  unwilling  ;  but  as  he  continued  to  urge 
her  strongly,  she  went  with  him.  After  they 
had  walked  some  little  distance  together,  all  at 
once,  every  thing  seemed  to  become  strange  to 
the  girl.  She  found  herself  in  an  entirely  un- 
known country ;  the  youth  stood  near  her,  tall 
and  white,  like  a  corpse  lying  upon  a  bier,  and 
looked  dreadfully  at  her.  The  young  woman 
grew  mortally  afraid,  and  prayed  very  heartily 
that  God  would  be  gracious  to  her.  The  youth 
now  all  at  once  turned  her  about  with  his  arm, 
and  said,  with  a  hollow  voice,  4  See  there,  how 
it  will  go  with  thee!'  She  saw  a  female  stand- 
ing before  her,  who  much  resembled  her,  or  was 
perfectly  like  her ;  she  had  old  rags  hanging 
about  her  instead  of  clothes,  and  a  little  child  in 
her  arms,  which  appeared  equally  wretched. 
'  Look,'  continued  the  spirit,  '  this  is  already  the 
third  illegitimate  child  thou  wilt  have.1  The  girl 
was  horrified,  and  fell  into  a  fit.  On  coming  to 
herself  again,  she  found  herself  in  bed,  in  an 
agony  of  trepidation  ;  she  however  thought  that 
she  had  been  dreaming.  See,  Heinrich, — this 
is  always  on  my  mind,  and  therefore  I  am 
melancholy."  Stilling  plied  her  hard  with  ques- 
tions, whether  this  had  not  happened  to  her- 
self ;  but  she  constantly  denied  it,  and  affirmed 
that  it  was  a  tale  she  had  heard  related. 

The  lamentable  fate  of  this  unfortunate  per- 
son has  at  length  made  it  obvious  that  she  must 
have  had  this  dreadful  presentiment  herself ; 
and  then  it  is  easy  to  conceive  why  she  became 
so  melancholy  at  that  time.  I  pass  by  her  his- 
tory, for  weighty  reasons;  and  only  mention, 
that  a  year  afterwards,  she  committed  a  trifling 
and  very  excusable  folly  ;  but  this  was  the  first 
8*ep  to  her  fall,  and  the  cause  of  her  subsequent 


STILLING. 

painful  and  grievous  fate.  She  was  a  nob.e 
soul,  gifted  with  excellent  bodily  and  mental 
qualities  ;  but  a  tendency  to  tenderness,  joined 
with  something  of  levity,  was  the  remote  cause 
of  her  misfortunes.  But  I  believe  her  Refiner 
will  sit,  and  purify  her  as  gold  in  the  fire  ;  and 
who  knows,  whether  she  will  not  eventually 
shine  brighter  than  her  judges,  who  forbade  her 
to  marry,  and  then,  when  she  brought  into  the 
world  a  child  by  him  to  whom  she  was  betroth- 
ed, sentenced  her  to  public  exposure,  with  the 
mark  of  an  arch-strumpet !  Woe  to  the  legis- 
lators, who — but  I  must  restrain  myself:  I  shall 
not  mend  the  matterr  but  may  make  it  worse. 
Still  another  woe  with  a  curse. —  Woe  to  those 
youths,  who  regard  a -poor  girl  merely  as  an  instru- 
ment of  lasciviousness  ;  and  cursed  be  he  before 
God  and  man,  who  causes  a  good  and  pious  maiden 
to  fall,  and  afterwards  leaves  her  to  perish  in 
misery  ! 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein  had  meanwhile  dis- 
covered Stilling  at  Florenburgh,  and  sent  for 
him,  the  last  week  he  was  with  his  master.  He 
went.  Stollbein  was  writing.  Stilling  presented 
himself,  with  his  hat  under  his  arm. 

"How  goes  it,  Stilling V  asked  the  preacher. 

Stilling. — "  It  goes  ill  with  me,  your  rev- 
erence ;  just  like  Noah's  dove,  which  found  no 
rest  for  her  foot." 

Stollbein. — "Well  then,  go  into  the  ark  !" 

Stilling. — "  I  cannot  find  the  door." 

Stollbein  laughed  heartily,  and  said,  "That's 
very  probable.  Your  father  and  yourself  cer- 
tainly took  it  much  amiss  of  me,  when  I  said  to 
your  uncle  Simon  that  you  must  stick  to  your 
needle  ;  for  shortly  afterwards,  you  went  into 
the  Prussian  territory,  and  would  keep  school, 
in  spite  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein.  I  have  heard 
how  it  has  fared  with  you  since.  Now  that  you 
have  so  long  fluttered  about,  and  cannot  find  the 
door,  it  is  again  my  turn  to  show  you  one." 

"  O  sir,"  said  Stilling,  "  if  you  can  assist  me 
in  obtaining  a  resting-place,  I  will  love  you  as 
an  angel  whom  God  has  sent  to  my  help." 

Stollbein. — "Yes,  Stilling;  there  is  now  a 
situation  vacant,  to  which  I  had  destined  you 
from  your  youth  up  ; — this  was  the  reason  why 
I  was  urgent  that  you  should  learn  Latin,  and 
why  I  would  so  gladly  have  had  you  remain  at 
your  needle,  when  you  could  no  longer  stay  at 
Zellberg.  I  was  irritated  because  you  were 
with  Krüger,  since  he  certainly  would  have 
drawn  you  gradually  to  his  side,  and  away  from 
me  ;  but  I  could  not  tell  you  why  I  treated  you 
thus,  although  I  meant  well.  If  you  had  con- 
tinued at  your  trade,  you  would  now  have  had 
clothes  on  your  back,  and  as  much  money  in 
your  pocket  as  you  needed.  And  what  loss 
would  you  have  sustained  by  it!  It  is  still  ear- 
ly enough  to  be  successful  in  the  world.  The 
Latin  school  in  this  place  is  now  vacant; — you 
shall  be  the  master  of  it;  you  have  abilities 
enough  to  enable  you  soon  to  acquire  that  in 
which  you  may  be  still  deficient,  with  respect  to 
knowledge  and  languages. 

Stilling's  heart  expanded.  He  saw  himself 
translated,  as  it  were,  out  of  a  dark  dungeon  in- 
to a  paradise.  He  could  not  find  words  suffi- 
cient to  thank  the  clergyman,  although  he  felt 
a  secret  horror  at  again  entering  upon  the  du- 
ties of  a  schoolmaster. 

Mr.  Stollbein,  meanwhile,  continued .  "  There 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


5! 


is  only  one  difficulty  to  be  removed.  The  ma- 
gistracy of  the  place  must  be  gained  over  for  you. 
I  have  already  labored  in  secret,  sounded  the 
people,  and  found  them  inclined.  However,  you 
know  how  things  stand  here  ;  as  soon  as  I  only 
begin  to  carry  something  useful  into  effect,  they 
resolve  upon  directly  opposite  measures,  be- 
cause I  am  the  clergyman.  We  must  therefore 
dissemble  a  little,  and  see  how  the  thing  will 
go.  Only  continue  quietly  at  your  trade,  till  I 
tell  you  what  you  are  to  do." 

Stilling  acceded  to  all  that  was  proposed,  and 
returned  to  his  work. 

Before  Christmas,  Wilhelm  Stilling  had  many 
clothes  to  make,  and  therefore  took  his  son 
home  to  help  him.  Scarcely  had  he  been  a  few 
days  at  Leindorf,  when  a  respectable  citizen  of 
Florenburgh,  Bailiff  Keilhof,  entered  the  room. 
A  rose  bloomed  in  Stilling's  heart  ;  he  forebo- 
ded a  happy  change  of  circumstances. 

Keilhof  was  Stollbein's  greatest  enemy ;  he 
had  perceived  that  there  was  a  secret  move- 
ment to  choose  Stilling  to  be  the  schoolmaster, 
and  this  was  just  what  he  wished.  Now  as  he 
thought  that  the  clergyman  would  certainly  op- 
pose them  with  all  his  might,  he  had  already 
taken  his  measures  to  carry  the  thing  the  more 
effectually  through.  On  this  account  he  stated 
the  matter  to  Wilhelm  and  his  son,  and  request- 
ed that  Stilling  might  remove  to  his  house  at 
new-year,  in  order  to  undertake  the  private  tu- 
ition of  his  children  in  the  Latin  language.  The 
other  inhabitants  of  Florenburgh  would  gradu- 
ally send  their  children  to  him,  and  the  thing 
would  then  be  linked  together  in  such  a  manner, 
that  they  would  be  able  to  effect  their  purpose, 
even  against  Stollbein's  will. 

Their  intention,  however,  was  extremely  un- 
just; for  the  clergyman  had  the  superinten- 
dence of  the  Latin,  as  well  as  of  all  the  other 
schools  in  his  parish  ;  and  had  therefore  the 
first  vote  at  the  choice  of  every  schoolmaster. 

Stilling,  knowing  the  secret  bearings  of  the 
matter,  rejoiced  that  all  went  on  so  well.  Yet 
he  dared  not  mention  the  sentiments  of  the 
clergyman,  lest  Mr.  Keilhof  should  immediate- 
ly change  his  purpose.  The  matter  was  there- 
fore terminated  as  proposed. 

Wilhelm  and  his  son  now  firmly  believed  that 
all  his  suffering  was  about  to  terminate  ;  for  the 
place  was  respectable  and  the  salary  conside- 
rable, so  that  he  might  live  decently,  even  were 
he  to  marry.  The  mother-in-law  herself  began 
to  rejoice,  for  she  really  loved  Stilling,  only  she 
did  not  know  what  to  make  of  him  ;  she  was 
always  afraid  he  did  not  earn  his  board,  much 
less  his  clothes  ;  but  with  regard  to  clothes  he 
had  never  yet  been  troublesome  to  her,  for  he 
had  scarcely  even  what  was  needful. 

He  removed  therefore  at  new-year,  1762,  to 
Mr.  Keilhofs  at  Florenburgh,  and  began  to  give 
instruction  in  Latin.  After  he  had  been  there 
some  days,  Mr.  Stoilbein  secretly  sent  him  word 
to  come  to  him  so  that  no  one  might  be  aware 
of  it.  He  therefore  went  one  evening  in  the 
twilight.  The  clergyman  was  heartily  glad 
that  the  matter  had  taken  such  a  turn.  "Ob- 
serve," said  he  to  Stilling;  "when  they  are 
once  unanimous  respecting  you,  and  have  'ar- 
ranged every  thing,  they  must  still  come  to  me 
to  obtain  my  consent.  Now,  as  they  are  al- 
ways in  the  habit  of  doing  foolish  things,  they 


are  accustomed  to  find  me  continually  opposed 
to  them.  How  they  will  study  to  say  biting 
things  ! — and  when  at  length  they  hear  that  I 
am  of  their  sentiments,  they  will  really  be  sorry 
that  they  have  chosen  yon  ;  but  then  it  will  be 
too  late.  Keep  yourself  quite  quiet,  and  be  on- 
ly good  and  diligent,  and  it  wUl  fare  well  with 
you." 

Meanwhile  the  Florenburgh  people  began  to 
assemble  in  the  evenings,  after  supper,  at  Bai- 
liff Keilhof's,  in  order  to  consult  together  how 
the  thing  might  be  conducted  in  the  best  man- 
ner, that  they  might  be  prepared  at  all  points  to 
battle  with  the  clergyman.  Stilling  listened  to 
it  all,  and  was  often  obliged  to  leave  the  room, 
in  order  to  give  vent  to  his  laughter. 

Amongst  those  that  came  to  Keilhofs,  there 
was  a  singular  man,  a  Frenchman  by  birth,  of 
the  name  of  Gayet.  Now,  as  no  one  knew 
whence  he  came,  whether  he  was  Lutheran 
or  Reformed,  and  why  he  wore  woollen  upper- 
hose  with  buttons  at  the  side  in  summer  as  well 
as  in  winter,  so  they  were  likewise  ignorant 
which  side  he  took.  Stilling  had  already  be- 
come acquainted  with  this  singular  character, 
when  he  went  to  the  Latin  school.  Gayet 
could  not  endure  any  one  of  an  ordinary  mind  : 
— the  people  with  whom  he  chose  to  associate, 
were  such  as  possessed  fire,  energy,  truth,  and 
knowledge  ;  and  when  he  met  with  any  one  of 
this  character,  he  was  open  and  confidential".. 
But  as  he  knew  no  one  of  this  kind  at  Floren- 
burgh, he  took  a  pleasure  in  making  fools  of 
them  altogether,  including  the  clergyman.  Stif- 
ling, however,  had  always  pleased  him ;  and 
now  that  he  was  grown  up,  and  become  tutor 
at  Mr.  Keilhofs,  he  often  came  to  visit  him. 
This  Gayet  was  there  also  of  an  evening,  and 
and  consulted  with  the  rest ;  he  was,  however, 
never  in  earnest,  but  did  it  only  to  amuse  him- 
self. Once,  as  six  or  eight  of  them  were  con- 
sidering the  school  affair  very  seriously,  he  be- 
gan, "  Hear  me,  neighbours !  I  will  tell  you 
something.  At  the  time  when  I  travelled  from 
door  to  door,  with  a  pedlar's  pack  on  my  back, 
and  offered  hats  for  sale,  I  came  once  by  chance 
into  the  kingdom  ofSiberia,  to  Emugia,  its  me- 
tropolis ;  the  king  was  just  then  dead,  and  the 
States-General  were  about  to  choose  another. 
Now  there  was  one  circumstance  on  which  ev- 
ery thing  depended  ;  the  kingdom  of  Cross- 
spider-land  borders  on  Siberia,  and  both  the 
states  have  been  continually  at  loggerheads  to- 
gether, ever  since  the  time  of  the  flood,  solely 
for  the  following  reason.  The  Siberians  have 
long  ears  standing  up  aloft,  like  those  of  an  ass  ; 
and  the  inhabitants  of  Cross-spider-land  have 
ears  the  flaps  of  which  hang  down  to  their  shoul- 
ders. Now  there  was  always  a  strife  between 
the  two  nations;  each  maintaining  that  Adam 
had  ears  like  themselves.  Therefore  it  was 
necessary  for  each  nation  always  to  choose  an 
orthodox  king,  the  best  mark  of  which  was, 
when  the  individual  had  an  implacable  hatred 
against  the  other  nation.  When  I  was  there, 
the  Siberians  had  an  excellent  man  in  view, 
whom  they  were  desirous  of  making  king,  not 
so  much  on  account  of  his  orthodoxy,  as  on  ac- 
count of  his  excellent  endowments.  Only  he  had 
ears  standing  up  aloft,  and  also  ear  lappets  that 
hung  down  ;  he  consequently  halted  between 
two  opinions  ; — this  did  not  satisfy  many  ;  how- 


52  H  E I  N  RICH 

ever,  he  was  chosen.  The  council  of  state 
then  determined,  that  the  king  with  the  well- 
regulated  high-eared  army,  should  take  the  field 
against  the  long-eared  king ;  this  was  accord- 
ingly done.  But  what  an  uproar  ensued ! — 
Bpth  kings  met  peaceably,  gave  each  other  the 
hand,  and  called  each  other  brother !  They 
immediately  deposed  the  king  with  the  herma- 
phrodite ears,  cut  his  ears  entirely  away,  and 
turned  him  adrift !" 

Burgomaster  Scultetns  took  his  long  pipe  out 
of  his  mouth,  and  said,  "Mr.  Gayethas  certain- 
ly travelled  far  in  the  world."  "  That  he  has," 
said  another  ;  "  but  I  believe  he  is  aiming  at 
us  ;  he  means  to  say  by  it,  we  are  all  asses  to- 
gether." But  Bailiff  Keilhof  winked  secretly 
at  Mr.  Gayet,  and  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  The 
fools  do  not  understand  that  you  mean  the  par- 
son and  his  consistory."  Stilling,  however, 
who  was  a  good  geographer,  and  understood 
the  fable  well  besides,  laughed  heartily,  and  said 
nothing.  Gayet  whispered  into  Keilhofs  ear 
in  return,  "  You  have  guessed  it  half  and  half." 

When  they  believed  that  they  had  made  ev- 
ery thing  safe,  they  sent  a  deputation,  on 
Shrove-Tuesday,  to  the  clergyman.  Bailiff  Keil- 
hof went  himself  with  the  deputation,  to  act 
as  spokesman.  The  time  seemed  long  to  Stil- 
ling till  they  returned,  that  he  might  hear  how 
the  affair  had  terminated  ;  and  he  heard  it  word 
for  word.    Keilhof  was  the  speaker. 

Keilhof. —  "  Sir,  we  have  selected  a  Latin 
schoolmaster  for  our  school,  and  we  are  now 
come  to  inform  you  of  it." 

Stollbein. — "  But  you  have  not  first  asked  me, 
whether  I  will  also  have  him  whom  you  have 
chosen." 

Keilhof. —  "  That  is  not  the  question  ;  the 
children  are  ours,  the  school  is  ours,  and  also 
the  schoolmaster." 

Stollbein. — "  But  who  amongst  you  under- 
stands so  much  Latin  as  to  be  able  to  exam- 
ine such  a  schoolmaster,  whether  he  is  fitted 
for  his  office  1" 

Keilhof. — "  We  have  people  that  are  able  to 
do  that." 

Stollbein  — "  But  the  prince  says,  I  am  to  be 
the  man  who  is  to  examine  the  schoolmaster 
of  this  place,  and  confirm  him  in  his  office  ;  do 
you  understand  me  1"  v 

Keilhof. — "  It  is  for  that  reason  we  are  come 
hitber." 

Stollbein. — "  Well,  then,  to  be  brief,  I  have 
selected  one  who  is  a  good  one,  and  that  is — 
schoolmaster  Stilling,  whom  you  knowl" 

Keilhof  and  his  people  looked  at  each  other, 
but  Stollbein  stood  and  smiled  triumphantly  ;  all 
were  t  hen  silent  awhile,  and  did  not  utter  a  word. 

Keilhof  recovered  himself  at  length,  and  said, 
"Well,  then,  we  are  of  one  mind  !" 

Stollbein. — "Yes,  Bailiff  Headstrong  !  we  are 
at  length  of  one  mind  !  Bring  your  schoolmas- 
ter hither  ;  I  will  confirm  and  install  him  in  his 
office." 

Keilhof. — "  We  are  not  quite  so  far  yet,  your 
reverence !  We  will  have  a  separate  school- 
house  for  him  ;  and  divide  the  Latin  school  from 
the  German.  (For  the  two  schools  were  united, 
each  schoolmaster  receiving  half  the  salary,  and 
the  Latin  schoolmaster  assisted  the  German 
when  he  had  finished.) 

Stoilbem. — "  God  pardon  me  my  sins  !  There 


STILLING. 

the  Devil  is  sowing  his  tares  again.  On  what 
is  your  schoolmaster  to  live  1" 

Keilhof. — "  That,  too,  is  our  affair,  and  not 
yours." 

Stollbein.—"  Hear  me,  Bailiff  Keilhof!  You 
are  really  a  foolish  fellow,  a  beast,  as  big  as 
any  on  God's  earth — gel  home  with  you  !" 

Keilhof — "  What  1—  You — you  scold  me  ?" 

Stollbein. — "  Go,  you  great  fool !  You  shall 
not  have  your  Stilling,  as  true  as  I  am  a  preach- 
er." And  with  that  he  went  into  his  closet,  and 
shut  the  door  after  him. 

Before  the  baliff  returned  home,  Stilling  re- 
ceived orders  to  attend  at  the  vicarage  ;  he 
went,  expecting  nothing  else  than  that  he  should 
now  be  installed  as  the  schoolmaster.  But  how 
was  he  dismayed,  when  Stollbein  spoke  to  him 
as  follows : — 

"  Stilling,  your  affair  is  at  an  end  !  If  you  do 
not  wish  to  plunge  yourself  into  the  greatest 
misery,  and  into  poverty  and  wretchedness, 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Florenburghers." 

On  this,  the  clergyman  related  to  him  every 
thing  that,  had  passed.  Stilling  took  leave  of 
him  with  the  profoundest  sorrow.  "  Be  satis- 
fied," said  Mr.  Stollbein ;  "  God  will  yet  bless 
and  prosper  you  ;  only  continue  at  your  trade, 
till  I  can  provide  for  you  decently  elsewhere." 

The  Florenburghers  however  were  angry  with 
Stilling,  because  they  imagined  he  had  secretly 
conferred  with  the  clergyman.  They  forsook 
him,  therefore,  and  chose  another.  Mr.  Stoll- 
bein this  time  let  them  have  their  will;  they 
made  a  new  schoolmaster,  gave  him  a  separate 
house,  and  as  they  could  not  and  dared  not 
withdraw  the  salary  from  the  old  German  school, 
and  knew  of  no  other  means,  they  determined 
to  procure  him  sixty  children  to  learn  Latin,  each 
of  whom  should  pay  four  rix-dollars  yearly. 
However,  the  honest  man  had  the  first  quarter, 
sixty  ;  afterwards  forty  ;  at  the  end  of  the  year, 
twenty;  and  at  length  scarcely  five;  so  that 
with  all  the  pains  he  took,  he  died  at  length  of 
poverty,  sorrow,  and  misery ;  and  his  wife  and 
children  were  obliged  to  beg. 

After  this  event,  Mr.  Stollbein  betook  himself 
to  rest ;  he  began  to  be  quiet,  and  to  trouble 
himself  about  nothing  beyond  the  fulfilment  of 
his  official  duties,  to  which  he  attended  with  all 
fidelity.  His  principal  failing,  which  so  often 
misled  him  to  act  foolishly,  was  family  pride. 
His  wife's  relatives  were  people  of  consequence, 
and  he  was  gratified  at  ther  elevation.  He 
himself  also  strove  to  attain  authority  and  hon- 
or. With  this  exception,  he  was  a  learned  and 
very  kind-hearted  man  ;  a  poor  man  never  so- 
licited him  in  vain  ;  he  gave  as  long  as  he  had 
anything,  and  assisted  the  wretched  as  much  as 
he  was  able.  He  was  only  irritated  and  impla- 
cable when  he  saw  that  any  one  of  inferior  rank 
made  pretentions  to  aspire  near  him.  For  this 
reason,  he  had  always  been  hostile  to  Johann 
Stilling.  The  latter,  as  mentioned  above,  was 
president  of  commerce  for  the  province  of  Salen  ; 
and  as  Stollbein  was  a  great  amateur  of  the 
science  of  mining,  he  always  let  Mr.  Stilling 
perceive  that  he  by  no  means  acknowledged  him 
for  that  which  he  was  ;  and  if  the  latter  had 
not  been  sufficiently  discreet  to  yield  to  the  old 
man,  hard  thrusts  would  have  been  the  conse- 
quence. 

Stollbein's  example,  however,  shewed  that  up- 


STILLING'S  YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 


53 


lightness  and  goodness  of  heart  never  suffer 
their  possessor  to  die  unamended. 

Once,  there  was  a  general  meeting  to  pass 
the  accounts  of  the  works,  so  that  the  principal 
miners  in  the  land  had  to  assemble  at  Mr.  Stil- 
lings,  their  president.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein 
came  also,  as  well  as  Bailiff  Keilhof,  with  some 
others  of  the  Florenburgh  people.  Mr.  Stilling 
went  up  to  the  clergyman,  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  led  him  to  a  chair  on  his  right  hand.  The 
preacher,  during  the  whole  time,  was  exceed- 
ingly friendly.  After  dinner  he  began  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  My  friends,  and  gentlemen,  I  am  old,  and 
I  feel  that  my  powers  are  rapidly  decaying ;  it 
is  the  last  time  that  I  shall  be  with  you.  I  shall 
not  come  hither  again.  Now,  if  there  is  any 
one  amongst  you  that  has  not  forgiven  me 
wherein  I  may  have  offended  him,  I  heartily  de- 
sire a  reconciliation." 

All  present  looked  at  each  other,  and  were 
silent.  Mr.  Stilling  could  not  possibly  endure 
this.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  this  touches  my  heart ! 
We  are  men,  and  all  of  us  liable  to  err.  I  have 
infinitely  much  to  thank  you  for : — you  have 
instilled  into  me  the  principles  of  our  religion, 
and  I  have  perhaps  often  given  you  occasion  to 
be  angry  with  me.  I  am  therefore  the  first  that 
requests  your  forgiveness  from  the  bottom  of  my 
soul,  in  whatever  I  may  have  given  you  offence." 
The  clergyman  was  so  affected  that  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks ;  he  stood  up.  embraced 
Stilling,  and  said,  "  I  have  often  offended  you ; 
I  regret  it,  and  we  are  brethren."  uNo,"  said 
Stilling,  "you  are  my  father! — give  me  your 
blessing !"  Stollbein  still  held  him  fast  in  his 
arms,  and  said,  "  You  are  blessed,  you  and  your 
whole  family,  and  that  for  the  sake  of  that  man 
who  has  been  so  often  my  pride  and  my  joy  !" 

This  scene  was  so  unexpected  and  affecting, 
that  most  of  those  present  shed  abundance  of 
tears,  but  Stilling  and  Stollbein  most  of  all. 

The  clergyman  now  stood  up,  and  went  down 
to  Baliff  Keilhof  and  the  rest  of  the  Florenburgh 
people,  smiled,  and  said,  u  Shall  we  also  balance 
our  accounts, #on  this  general  reckoning-day?" 
Keilhof  answered,  "We  are  not  angry  with  you." 
"That  is  not  the  question  now,"  said  Mr.  Stoll- 
bein ;  "  I  solemnly  ask  forgiveness  of  you  all,  if 
I  have  offended  you  in  any  thing !"  "  We  will- 
ingly forgive  you,"  replied  Keilhof ;  "  but  you 
must  do  this  from  the  pulpit." 

Stollbein  felt  all  his  fire  again  ;  however,  he 
was  silent,  and  sat  down  near  Stilling  ;  but  the 
latter  grew  so  warm,  that  his  face  glowed.  "  Mr. 
Bailiff,"  he  began, "  you  are  not  worthy  that  God 
should  forgive  you  your  sins,  as  long  as  you 
think  so.  His  reverence  is  free,  and  has  fulfill- 
ed his  whole  duty.  Christ  enjoins  love  and  a 
forgiving  spirit.  He  will  repay  your  obstinacy 
on  your  own  head  !" 

Mr.  Stollbein  terminated  this  affecting  scene 
with  the  words,  "  That  shall  be  done  also ;  I 
will  publicly  ask  forgiveness  of  my  whole  con- 
gregation from  the  pulpit ;  and  prophesy  to 
them  that  one  shall  come  after  me  who  will  re- 
taliate upon  them  what  they  have  done  against 
me."  Both  these  things  were  fully  accom- 
plished. 

Shortly  after  this  event,  Mr.  Stollbein  died  in 
peace,  and  was  buried  in  the  church  at  Floren- 
burgh by  the  side  of  his  wife.    In  his  life  he 


was  hated  ;  but  after  his  death,  lamented,  hon- 
oured and  beloved.  Heinrich  Stilling,  at  least, 
will  revere  his  memory  as  long  as  he  lives. 

Stilling  continued  until  Easter  with  Bailiff 
Keilhof ;  he  then  perceived  that  every  one  look- 
ed sourly  at  him,  and  therefore  became  weary 
of  this  mode  of  life  also. 

One  morning,  in  bed,  he  revolved  his  circum- 
stances over  in  his  mind  ; — the  idea  of  return- 
ing to  his  father  was  dreadful  to  him,  for  agri- 
cultural labour  would  at  length  have  entirely 
worn  out  his  constitution ;  besides  which,  his 
father  only  gave  him  meat  and  drink  ;  for  what 
he  earned  above  that,  he  placed  against  the  ad- 
vances he  had  made  him  in  former  years,  when 
he  could  not  subsist  on  his  schoolmaster's  pay  ; 
he  therefore  dared  not  think  of  clothes,  although 
these  in  the  course  of  the  year  were  worn  out. 
It  was  likewise  painful  to  him  to  work  with  * 
other  masters,  and  he  saw  that  he  could  not 
save  for  himself  by  it ;  for  the  weekly  pay  of 
half-a-guilder  did  not  bring  him  in  so  much  in 
the  whole  year  as  the  most  needful  clothing  re- 
quired. Half  distracted,  he  threw  himself  out 
of  bed,  and  exclaimed,  "Almighty  God  !  what 
must  I  dol"  That  very  moment  he  felt  as  if 
it  was  said  to  him  in  his  soul,  "  Get  thee  out  of 
thy  country,  and  from  thy  kindred,  and  from 
thy  father's  house,  into  a  land  that  1  will  shew 
thee."  He  felt  himself  profoundly  tranquillised, 
and  immediately  determined  to  go  into  another 
country. 

This  took  place  on  the  Tuesday  before  Easter. 
That  very  day,  his  father  visited  him.  The  good 
man  had  again  heard  of  his  son's  fate,  and  it  was 
on  this  account  he  came  to  Florenburgh.  Both 
took  their  seats  in  a  solitary  room,  and  Wilhelm 
began  as  follows: — "Heinrich,  lam  come  to 
take  counsel  with  thee :  I  now  see  clearly  that 
thou  hast  not  been  to  blame.  God  has  certainly 
not  destined  thee  to  keep  school ;  the  tailor's 
trade  thou  understandest,  but  thou  art  in  cir- 
cumstances in  which  it  cannot  yield  thee  what 
is  needful.  Being  with  me  is  also  not  proper 
for  thee  ;  thou  shunnest  my  house,  nor  is  that 
any  wonder.  I  am  not  able  to  procure  thee 
what  is  needful,  if  thou  canst  not  do  the  work 
which  I  have  to  do;  it  is  difficult  for  me  to 
maintain  my  wife  and  children.  What  dost 
thou  think'?  Hast  thou  considered  what  thou 
intendest  to  be]" 

Heinrich. — "  Father  I  have  reflected  upon  it 
for  years  together ;  but  it  has  only  this  morn- 
ing become  Clear  to  me  what  I  ought  to  do ;  I 
must  remove  into  another  country,  and  see  what 
God  intends  to  make  of  me." 

Wilhelm. — "  We  are  then  of  the  same  opinion, 
my  son.  When  we  reflect  upon  the  matter  ra- 
tionally, we  shall  find  that  His  dealings  with 
thee,  from  the  beginning,  have  aimed  at  driving 
thee  from  thy  native  province ;  and  what  hast 
thou  to  expect  here  ?  Thy  uncle  has  children 
himself,  and  he  will  first  seek  to  provide  for 
them,  before  he  helps  thee  ;  meanwhile  thy  years 
are  passing  away.  But — then — when  I  reflect 
— on  thy  earliest  years — and  the  joy  I  promised 
myself— from  thee — and  when  thou  art  gone, 
Stilling's  joy  is  at  an  end  !"  He  was  unable  to 
say  more,  but  held  both  his  hands  before  his  eyes, 
writhing  his  bod#  about,  and  weeping  aloud. 

This  scene  was  too  much  for  Stilling's  feelings, 
— he  fainted  away.  On  coming  to  himself  again, 


HEINRICH 


STILLING. 


his  father  rose  up,  pressed  his  hand,  and  said, 
"  Heinrich,  take  leave  of  no  one  ;  go  where  thy 
Heavenly  Father  beckons  thee.  The  holy  an- 
gels will  accompany  thee  wherever  thou  goest ; 
write  to  me  often  how  it  fares  with  thee."  He 
then  hastened  out  of  the  door. 

Stilling  became  firm,  took  courage,  and  com- 
mended himself  to  God  ;  he  felt  that  he  was  en- 
tirely set  at  liberty  from  all  his  friends.  No 
further  impediment  remained  ;  and  he  waited 
with  desire  for  Easter-Monday,  which  he  had 
appointed  for  his  departure :— he  told  no  one  of 
his  intention,  nor  visited  any  one,  but  remained 
at  home. 

However,  he  could  not  refrain  from  going  once 
more  into  the  church-yard.  He  was  unwilling 
to  do  so  by  day  :  he  therefore  went  thither  in 
the  evening  before  Easter-day,  by  the  light  of 
the  full  moon,  and  visited  faiher  Stilling's  and 
Doris's  grave,  sat  down  a  little  while  upon  each, 
and  wept  silent  tears.  His  sensations  were  inex- 
pressible. He  felt  something  within  him  which 
said,  "  Were  these  two  still  alive,  it  would  fare 
very  differently  with  me  in  the  world  !"  At 
length  he  took  a  formal  leave  of  both  the  graves, 
and  of  the  venerable  remains  which  were  de- 
caying within  them,  and  went  his  way. 

The  following  Easter-Monday  morning,  which 
was  the  twelfth  of  April,  1762,  he  settled  his  ac- 
count with  Bailiff  Keilhof,  from  whom  he  re- 
ceived something  more  than  four  rix-dollars. 
This  money  he  put  into  his  pocket,  went  up  into 
his  room,  packed  up  his  three  ragged  shirts,  (the 
fourth  he  had  on,)  a  pair  of  old  stockings,  a 
night-cap,  together  with  his  scissors  and  thim- 
ble, in  a  portmanteau  ;  then  put  on  his  clothes, 
which  consisted  of  a  pair  of  middling  good  shoes, 
black  woollen  stockings,  leather  breeches,  black 
cloth  waistcoat,  a  tolerably  good  brown  coat  of 
coarse  cloth,  and  a  large  hat  after  the  fashion 
of  those  days.  He  then  turned  up  his  straight 
brown  hair,  took  his  long  thorn-stick  in  his  hand, 
and  walked  to  Salen,  where  he  provided  himself 
with  a  travelling-pass,  and  went  out  of  a  gate 
which  lies  towards  the  north-west.  He  fell  into 
a  high  road,  without  knowing  whither  it  would 
lead  him  ;  he  followed  it,  and  it  brought  him  in 
the  evening  to  a  large  village  which  lies  on  the 
borders  of  the  province  of  Salen. 

He  then  went  into  an  inn,  and  wrote  a  letter 
to  his  father  at  Leindorf,  in  which  he  took  a 
tender  leave  of  him,  and  promised  him,  as  soon 
as  he  should  settle  himself  anywhere,  to  write 
to  him  very  circumstantially.  Amongst  the 
various  people  who  sat  drinking  in  the  house, 
there  were  several  carriers,  a  kind  of  persons 
who  are  the  most  suitable  for  giving  information 
respecting  the  roads.  Stilling  asked  them  whith- 
er that  road  led  ; — they  answered,  to  Schönen- 
thal. Now  he  had  heard  much  in  his  life-time  of 
this  celebrated  commercial  town ;  he  therefore 
determined  to  travel  thither,  and  inquire  the 
names  of  the  places  upon  the  road,  and  their 
distances  from  each  other.  All  this  he  marked 
down  in  his  pocket-book,  and  betook  himself 
quietly  to  rest. 


The  next  morning,  after  having  drunk  coffee 
and  eaten  his  breakfast,  he  commended  himself 
to  God,  and  proceeded  on  his  journey ;  but  it 
was  so  foggy,  that  he  could  scarcely  see  more 
than  a  few  paces  belbre  him.  On  arriving  there- 
fore, at  an  extensive  heath,  where  there  wer© 
many  roads  near  each  other,  he  always  followed 
that  which  seemed  to  him  the  most  trodden. 
But  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock,  when  the 
fog  dispersed,  and  the  sun  broke  through,  he 
found  that  his  path  led  towards  the  east.  He 
was  much  alarmed  ;  and  walked  on  a  little,  un- 
til he  came  to  an  eminence,  from  whence  he  saw 
the  village  in  which  he  had  passed  the  night, 
again  before  him.  He  therefore  turned  about; 
and  as  the  sky  was  clear,  he  found  the  high 
road,  which,  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  led  him 
to  a  large  hill. 

Here  he  sat  down  on  the  green  turf,  and  look- 
ed towards  the  south-east.  He  there  saw  in  the 
distance  the  old  Geisenberg  castle,  the  Giller, 
the  Heights,  and  other  well-known  districts.  A 
deep  sigh  arose  in  his  breast,  and  tears  flowed 
down  his  cheeks.  He  drew  out  his  tablets  and 
wrote  : — 

"With  melting  eyes  I  look  once  more 
To  yonder  well-known  smiling  hills  ; 

Oh,  when  I  view  the  landscape  o'er, — 
T  he  rocks,  the  fields,  the  woods  and  rills, 

The  lofty  heights,  the  light  and  shade, 

Which  paradise  around  me  made. — 

I  feel,  as  when  in  pleasing  dreams, 
The  purest  zephyrs  breathe  around ; 

As  though  I  roved  by  Eden's  streams, 
And  the  first  Adam  near  me  found 

As  though  I  living  water  drank, 

And  by  the  brook  unconscious  sank. 

My  thoughts  then,  suddenly,  again 
Awake  me,  like  the  thunder's  roar 

Descending  to  the  distant  plain, 

Whiht  forked  lightnings  blaze  all  o'er. 

Scared  by  the  flash,  the  roe-buck  starts, 

And  deep  into  the  thicket  darts. 

My  spirit  sinks  to  grief's  dark  hole, 
And  looks  for  aid  both  neur  and  far  ; 

No  light  then  penetrates  my  soul, 
No  longer  shines  a  single  star ; — 

I  call  so  loud,  the  rocks  resound  ; 

A  thousand  echoes  swell  the  sound. 

At  length  there  shines  a  gleam  of  light — 
Mankind's  great  Father  beckons  me  ; 

Ye  mountains,  bloom  in  beauty  bright, 
Though  you  I  never  more  may  see 

Till  the  last  flash  earth's  centre  shakes, 

And  one  grand  conflagration  makes  I 

Then,  with  immortal  verdure  crown'd, 
I'll  seek  your  much-loved  heights  again 

For  father  Stilling  look  around, 
With  Doris  your  tall  summits  gain; 

And  in  those  bowers  she  held  so  dear, 

Clothed  in  white  robes  will  I  appear. 

Farewell ! — T  now  direct  my  view 
To  hills  and  lands  to  me  unknown 

And  look  no  longer  back  to  you, 
Until  my  earthly  course  is  run. 

My  Saviour,  guide  me  all  the  day, 

Whilst  walking  on  this  unknown  way!" 

Stilling  now  rose  up,  wiped  away  his  tears, 
took  his  staff  in  his  hand,  his  portmanteau  on 
his  back,  and  wandered  over  the  hill  down  into 
the  vale  below. 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


55 


HEINRICH  STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

As  Heinrich  Stilling  descended  the  hill  into 
the  valley,  and  lost  sight  of  his  native  province, 
his  heart  became  lighter;  he  felt  that  all  the  con- 
nections and  relations  in  which  he  had  hitherto 
suffered  so  much,  were  at  an  end ;  therefore  he 
breathed  more  freely,  and  was  well  contented. 

The  weather  was  incomparably  beautiful ;  at 
noon  he  drank  a  glass  of  beer  at  an  inn  which 
stood  solitarily  by  the  road-side,  and  ate  a  sand- 
wich with  it ^  he  then  proceeded  on  his  way, 
which  led  him  through  waste  and  desert  places, 
and  brought  him  in  the  evening,  after  sunset,  to 
a  miserable  village,  lying  in  the  fens,  in  a  nar- 
row valley,  amid  the  bushes;  the  dwellings 
were  all  miserable  huts,  and  stood  more  in  the 
earth  than  upon  it.  It  had  not  been  his  intention 
to  pass  the  night  at  this  place,  but  two  leagues 
beyond  it;  having,  however,  strayed  from  his 
path  in  the  morning,  he  could  not  proceed  further. 

He  inquired  at  the  first  house  he  came  to, 
whether  there  was  any  one  in  the  village  that 
lodged  travellers.  A  house  was  pointed  out  to 
him;  he  went  thither,  and  asked  whether  he 
could  pass  the  night  there.  The  woman  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative.  He  went  into  the 
room,  sat  down,  and  laid  aside  his  portmanteau. 
Her  husband  now  entered;  some  little  children 
collected  round  the  table,  and  the  woman  brought 
a  lamp,  which  she  hung  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  by  a  hempen  string;  every  thing  looked  so 
poor,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  so  suspicious,  that 
Stilling  began  to  feel  apprehensive  and  afraid, 
and  would  rather  have  slept  in  the  open  air;  this, 
however,  was  quite  unnecessary,  for  he  possess- 
ed nothing  that  was  worth  stealing.  Meanwhile 
they  brought  him  an'  earthen  dish  with  sour- 
krout,  a  piece  of  bacon  with  it,  and  a  couple  of 
eggs  upon  it.  He  ate  it  with  a  relish,  and  lay 
down  upon  the  straw  which  had  been  spread  for 
him  in  the  room.  He  slept  but  little  before  mid- 
night, chiefly  from  fear.  The  landlord  and  his 
•wife  slept  also  in  the  same  room,  in  an  alcove. 
Towards  twelve  o'clock,  he  heard  the  woman 
say  to  her  husband,  "  Arnold,  art  thou  asleep  V 
"  No,"  answered  he,  "  I  am  not  asleep."  Stilling 
listened,  but  purposely  drew  his  breath  strongly, 
that  they  might  believe  he  was  sleeping  soundly. 

"What  kind  of  a  man  may  this  be?"  said  the 
woman.  Arnold  replied,  "God  knows!  I  have 
been  thinking  about  it  all  the  evening ;  he  did 
not  say  much;  dost  thou  think  all  is  right  with 
him  7" 

"Do  not  immediately  think  ill  of  people,"  an- 
swered Trina;  "he  looks  honest;  who  knows 
how  many  troubles  he  may  have  already  passed 
through  1  I  really  pity  him  ;  as  soon  as  he  enter- 
ed the  door,  he  seemed  to  me  so  melancholy; 
may  the  Lord  our  God  preserve  him  !  I  can  see 
that  he  has  something  on  his  heart." 

"Thou  art  in  the  right,  Trina!"  rejoined  Ar- 
nold ;  "  God  forgive  me  for  being  suspicious !  I 
was  just  thinking  of  the  schoolmaster  from  the 
province  of  Salen,  who  slept  here  two  or  three 
years  ago;  he  was  dressed  in  the  same  manner, 
and  we  heard,  afterwards,  that  he  was  a  coiner." 

"Arnold,"  said  Trina,  "thou  art  quite  unable 
to  know  people  by  countenances.  That  man 
looked  so  black,  and  had  such  a  dark  expression 


j  in  his  eyes,  and  dared  not  look  at  one;  but  this 
J  one  appears  kind  and  friendly;  he  has  certainly 
a  good  conscience." 

"Well,  well,"  concluded  Arnold,  "we  will 
commend  him  to  the  Lord  our  God,  who  will 
take  care  of  him,  if  he  is  pious." 

The  good  people  now  fell  asleep.  Stilling 
meanwhile  was  well  satisfied  upon  his  straw; 
he  felt  the  spirit  of  Stilling  breathe  around  him, 
and  slept  as  sweetly  till  the  morning  as  if  he  had 
lain  upon  eider-down.  On  awaking,  he  saw  that 
his  landlord  and  landlady  were  already  dress- 
ing; he  looked  smilingly  at  them  both,  and  wish- 
ed them  a  good  morning.  They  asked  him  how 
he  had  slept.  He  answered,  "After  midnight, 
very  well!"  "You  were  certainly  very  tired 
yesterday  evening,"  said  Trina;  "you  looked  so 
dejected."  Stilling  replied,  "Dear  friends,  it 
was  not  because  I  was  so  weary;  but  I  have 
suffered  much  in  my  life  time,  and  on  that  ac- 
count look  more  melancholy  than  I  am ;  besides 
which,  I  must  confess  I  was  a  little  alarmed,  lest 
I  should  not  be  with  pious  people."  "  Yes,"  said 
Arnold,  "you  are  with  those  that  fear  God,  and 
would  gladly  obtain  salvation;  had  you  had 
great  riches  with  you,  they  would  have  been  safe 
with  us."  Stilling  tendered  him  his  right  hand, 
and  said,  with  the  most  tender  mien,  "  God  bless 
you!  we  are  then  of  the  same  sentiments." 
"Trina,"  continued  Arnold,  "make  us  a  good 
cup  of  tea;  fetch  some  of  the  best  cream,  and 
we  three  will  breakfast  together;  we  may  per- 
haps never  meet  again."  The  woman  was  ac- 
tive and  cheerful,  and  gladly  did  what  her  hus- 
band told  her.  They  then  sat  down  to  breakfast, 
and  all  three  were  at  home  with  each  other. 
Stilling  overflowed  with  friendship  and  suscep- 
tibility; it  pained  him  to  leave  the  good  people, 
and  he  shed  tears  on  parting  with  them.  Strength- 
ened afresh,  he  proceeded  on  his  way. 

After  travelling  five  leagues,  he  arrived,  just 
at  noon,  at  a  large  village,  which  lay  in  a  pleas- 
ant country;  here  he  inquired  for  a  good  inn, 
and  was  shown  one,  by  the  road-side,  into  which 
he  went,  entered  the  traveller's  room,  and  asked 
for  something  to  eat.  An  old  man  was  sitting 
by  the  stove,  the  cut  of  whose  clothes  indicated 
something  respectable,  but  their  present  condi- 
tion showed  that  he  must  have  djscended  far  be- 
low his  former  circumstances.  There  were  be- 
sides, two  youths  and  a  girl  present,  whose  deep 
mourning-dress  indicated  the  loss  of  a  near  rela- 
tive. The  girl  attended  to  the  kitchen,  and  ap- 
peared modest  and  cleanly. 

Stilling  took  his  seat  opposite  the  old  man; 
whose  attention  his  open  countenance  and  friend- 
ly deportment  excited,  so  that  he  entered  into 
conversation  with  him.  They  soon  became  in- 
timate, and  Stilling  related  his  whole  history  to 
him.  Conrad  Brauer  —  for  such  was  the  old 
man's  name — was  astonished  at  it,  and  prophe- 
sied him  many  good  things.  The  worthy  man 
in  return  was  anxious  to  tell  him  his  own  fate 
also,  which  he  related  to  every  one  who  express- 
ed a  desire  to  hear  him;  he  accordingly  did  so 
before,  during,  and  after  dinner.  The  young 
people,  who  were  his  brother's  children,  had 
probably  heard  it  a  hundred  times  over;  they 
therefore  paid  no  particular  attention  to  it,  yet 
occasionally  confirmed  anv  thing  that  seemed  in- 


56 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


credible.  Stilling  however  listened  the  more  at- 
tentively, for  narrating  was  peculiarly  his  fa- 
vorite employment.  Conrad  Brauer  began  in 
the  following  manner: 

"I  am  the  eldest  of  three  brothers;  the  second 
of  them  is  a  rich  merchant  of  this  place;  and 
the  youngest  was  the  father  of  these  children, 
whose  mother  died  some  years  ago,  but  my  broth- 
er only  a  few  weeks  since.  When  I  was  young, 
I  devoted  my  attention  to  the  manufacture  of 
woollen  cloths ;  and  as  we  inherited  nothing 
from  our  parents,  I  instructed  my  two  brothers 
in  the  same  trade.  However,  the  youngest  mar- 
ried well,  by  which  he  came  into  possession  of 
this  house;  he  therefore  gave  up  the  trade,  and 
became  innkeeper.  I  and  my  second  brother, 
meanwhile,  continued  the  manufactory.  I  was 
fortunate,  and  with  the  blessing  of  God,  became 
prosperous  in  trade,  so  that  I  attained  riches  and 
affluence.  I  let  my  second  brother  enjoy  it  rich- 
ly.   Yes,  God  knows  I  did  ! 

"My  brother,  meanwhile,  commenced  a  sin- 
gular courtship.  There  dwelt  in  the  neighbour- 
hood an  old  woman,  who  was  at  least  sixty 
years  old,  and  besides  that,  uncommonly  ugly; 
so  that,  on  account  of  her  intolerable  unclean- 
liness,  one  would  not,  so  to  speak,  have  taken 
hold  of  her  with  the  tongs.  This  old  virgin 
was  very  rich;  but  at  the  same  time,  so  covet- 
ous, that  she  scarcely  ate  bread  and  water  suf- 
ficient to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  It  was 
commonly  said,  that  she  had  put  all  her  money 
into  a  sack,  which  she  had  hidden  in  some  very 
secret  place.  My  brother  went  to  her,  and  tried 
to  rekindle  the  extinguished  fire  of  this  person  ; 
he  succeeded  according  to  his  wish ;  she  fell  in 
love  with  him,  and  he  with  her,  so  that  betroth- 
ment  and  marriage  soon  .followed.  But  it  was 
long  before  he  could  discover  the  retreat  of  the 
household  god ;  however,  my  worthy  brother  at 
length  succeeded  in  this  also— he  found  it,  and 
joyfully  carried  it  to  a  place  of  safety ;  this 
grieved  my  good  sister-in-law  to  such  a  degree 
that  she  fell  into  a  consumption  and  died,  to  the 
great  joy  of  my  brother. 

"  He  held  out  faithfully  during  the  usual  time 
of  mourning ;  but  in  the  mean  time  privately 
sought  for  a  young  lady,  who  might  be  about  as 
wealthy  as  he  had  so  innocently  become.  In  this 
also  he  was  successful ;  and  he  began  to  lay  out 
his  money  to  profit,  and  that  too  at  my  expense ; 
for  he  traded  in  woollen  cloth,  and  deprived  me 
of  all  my  customers,  by  offering  his  goods  al- 
ways cheaper  than  I  did.  On  this,  I  began  to 
go  back,  and  my  affairs  grew  worse  every  day. 
He  soon  saw  this,  and,  assuming  a  greater  de- 
gree of  kindness  towards  me,  promised  to  ad- 
vance me  as  much  money  as  I  should  require. 
I  was  foolish  enough  to  believe  him.  When  he 
thought  it  was  time,  he  took  away  every  thing 
that  I  had  in  the  world ;  my  wife  grieved  her- 
self to  death,  and  I  am  now  living  in  misery, 
penury,  and  sorrow.  He  devoured  my  late 
brother,  who  dwelt  in  this  house,  in  the  same 
manner." 

"  Yes.  that  is  true,"  said  the  three  children, 
and  wept. 

Stilling  listened  to  this  tale  with  horror;  he 
said,  "  He  must  be  one  of  the  most  detestable 
men  under  the  sun ;  he  will  have  to  pay  for  it 
dearly  in  the  next  world." 

"Yes,"  said  old. Brauer;  "but  such  people 
care  little  about  that." 

After  dinner,  Stilling  went  to  a  pianoforte, 
which  stood  against  the  wall,  and  played  and  | 
sang  the  hymn, 


"He  that  lets  God  the  Almighty  rule." 

The  old  man  folded  his  hands,  and  sang  most 
heartily,  so  that  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks ; 
as  did  also  the  three  young  people. 

Stilling,  after  paying  for  what  he  had  consu- 
med, gave  his  hand  to  each  of  them,  and  took 
leave.  All  of  them  were  friendly  with  him,  and 
accompanied  him  to  the  front-door,  where  they 
all  four  again  gave  him  their  hands,  and  com- 
mended him  to  the  divine  protection. 

He  proceeded  forward  on  the  road  to  Schö- 
nenthal, and  was  heartily  pleased  with  all  the 
good  people  he  had  hitherto  met  with.  I  will 
call  this  village  Holtzheim,  for  I  shall  be  obli- 
ged to  revert  to  it  in  the  sequel  of  my  history. 

From  this  place  to  Schönenthal,  he  had  only 
to  travel  five  leagues;  but  having  stayed  so  long 
at  Holtzheim,  he  was  unable  to  reach  it  that 
evening;  he  therefore  remained  a  good  league 
on  this  side,  during  the  night,  in  the  little  town 
of  Rasenheim.  The  people  where  he  lodged 
were  not  suitable  company  for  him,  and  conse- 
quently he  continued  silent  and  reserved. 

The  next  morning  he  set  out  upon  the  road  to 
Schönenthal.  On  ascending  the  hill,  and  re- 
viewing the  incomparable  town  and  the  paradi- 
siacal valley,  he  was  delighted,  and  sat  down  on 
the  grass  surveying  the  whole  for  awhile ;  at  the 
same  time  the  wish  arose  in  his  inmost  soul,  "  O 
God  !  if  I  might  but  end  my  life  there !" 

He  now  began  to  consider  what  he  intended 
to  do.  Disgust  at  the  trade  of  a  tailor  induced 
him  to  think  of  a  situation  with  some  merchant ; 
but  as  he  knew  no  one  at  Schönenthal  to  whom 
he  could  address  himself,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
Mr.  Dahlheim  was  preacher  in  the  village  of 
Dornfeld,  which  lies  three  quarters  of  a  league 
up  the  valley,  eastward  of  Schönenthal ;  he 
therefore  immediately  determined  to  go  thither 
and  discover  himself  to  him.  He  arose,  went 
slowly  down  the  hill,  in  order  to  be  able  to  take 
a  good  view  of  every  thing,  until  he  reached  the 
town. 

He  immediately  perceived  what  prosperity 
and  affluence  manufactories  and  commerce  may- 
procure  to  a  place;  the  sumptuous  palaces  of 
the  merchants,  the  neat  houses  of  the  tradesmen 
and  mechanics,  together  with  the  great  degree 
of  cleanliness  which  manifested  itself  even  in- 
the  clothes  of  the  servant-women  and  the  lower 
classes,  quite  charmed  him ;  the  place  pleased 
him  exceedingly.  He  went  through  the  whole 
town,  and  up  the  valley,  until  he  arrived  at  Dörn- 
feld. He  found  Mr.  Dahlheim  at  home,  and 
briefly  stated  his  circumstances  to  him;  but  the 
worthy  clergyman  knew  of  no  situation  for  him. 
Stilling  had  not  yet  much  experience,  otherwise 
he  might  have  easily  thought  that  a  person  is 
not  taken  in  that  manner  from  the  road  into  mer- 
cantile service;  for  Mr.  Dahlheim,  although  he 
was  from  the  province  of  Salen,  knew  neither 
Stilling  nor  his  family. 

He  therefore  returned  to  Schönenthal,  and  was 
half  willing  to  engage  himself  as  a  journeyman 
tailor;  but  perceiving,  as  he  passed  by  a  tailor's 
shop,  that  it  was  the  custom  there  to  sit  cross- 
legged  upon  the  table,  he  was  again  deterred,  for 
he  had  never  sat  otherwise  than  in  a  chair  before 
the  table.  While  he  was  thus  walking  up  and 
down  the  streets,  he  saw  a  horse  with  two  bas- 
kets upon  its  back,  and  a  tolerably  well-dressed 
man  standing  by  it,  who  was  tying  on  the  bas- 
kets. As  the  man's  appearance  pleased  him, 
Stilling  asked  him  whether  he  was  leaving  town 
I  that  evening.    The  man  said,  "Yes;  I  am  the 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


57 


Schauberg  carrier,  and  shall  set  off  immediate- 
ly." Stilling  recollected  that  the  young  Mr. 
Stollbein,  the  son  of  the  preacher  at  Floren- 
burgh,  was  minister  there,  and  that  several  jour- 
neymen-tailors from  Salen  resided  in  the  same 
place;  he  therefore  resolved  to  go  thither  with 
the  carrier,  to  which  the  latter  willingly  assent- 
ed. Schauberg  lies  three  leagues  to  the  south- 
westward  of  Schönenthal. 

Stilling  sought  on  the  way  to  become  intimate 
with  his  companion.  If  it  had  been  the  honest 
"Carrier  of  Wandsbeck,"*  the  two  would  have 
had  an  agreeable  conversation  together;  how- 
ever, he  was  not;  although  the  Schauberg  car- 
rier might  have  been  one  of  the  most  worthy 
among  many,  for  he  took  Stilling's  portmanteau 
on  his  horse  without  charging  for  it;  so  that  al- 
though he  was  no  sentimental  carrier,  yet  he 
was  a  good,  honest  man,  which  is  saying  much. 

As  soon  as  they  arrived  at  Schauberg,  he  re- 
paired to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Slollbein's  house ;  the 
latter  had  been  well  acquainted  with  his  grand- 
father, as  well  as  his  late  mother;  he  also  knew 
his  father,  for  they  had  been  boys  together.  Stoll- 
bein  was  heartily  pleased  at  seeing  his  country- 
man ;  he  advised  him  immediately  to  apply  him- 
self to  his  trade,  that  he  might  earn  his  liveli- 
hood;  and  meanwhile,  he  would  take  pains  to 
procure  him  some  decent  situation.  He  sent  in- 
stantly for  a  journeyman  tailor,  of  whom  He  in- 
quired whether  there  was  any  employment  to  be 
obtained  in  the  town  for  the  stranger. 

"  O  yes!"  answered  the  former;  "he  comes 
as  if  he  had  been  sent  for;  Mr.  Nagel  is  in  great 
want  of  a  workman."  Stollbein  sent  the  servant- 
maid  thither  with  Stilling,  and  he  was  joyfully 
received  and  accepted. 

In  the  evening,  when  he  went  to  bed,  he  re- 
flected upon  his  change  of  circumstances,  and 
the  faithful  providence  of  his  heavenly  Father. 
Without  purposing  whither  to  go,  he  had  left  his 
native  province ;  Providence  had  graciously 
guided  him  during  three  days,  and  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  third  day  he  was  again  provided  for. 
It  now  became  apparent  to  him,  what  a  great 
truth  it  was  which  his  father  had  so  often  told 
him,  "  a  trade  is  a  valuable  gift  of  God,  and  has 
a  golden  foundation."  He  was  vexed  at  him- 
self for  being  so  much  an  enemy  to  this  voca- 
tion ;  he  prayed  heartily  to  God,  thanked  him 
for  his  gracious  guidance,  and  laid  himself  down 
to  sleep. 

He  rose  early  in  the  morning,  and  placed  him- 
self in  the  workshop.  Mr.  Nagel  had  no  other 
journeymen  besides  him ;  but  his  wife,  his  two 
daughters,  and  two  boys,  all  assisted  in  making 
clothes. 

Stilling's  dexterity  and  uncommon  ability  in 
his  trade  very  soon'  procured  him  the  favor  of 
his  master;  and  his  affability  and  good  disposi- 
tion, the  love  and  friendship  of  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren. Scarcely  had  he  been  three  days  there, 
when  he  felt  himself  at  home ;  and  as-  he  had 
neither  reproach  nor  persecution  to  fear,  he  was 
for  the  time,  so  to  speak,  perfectly  satisfied. 

The  first  Sunday  afternoon  he  devoted  to  let- 
ter-writing, and  informed  his  father,  his  uncle, 
and  other  good  friends,  of  his  present  circum- 
stances, in  order  to  set  the  minds  of  his  family  at 
ease:  for  it  maybe  supposed  that  they  were  anx- 
ious about  him,  until  they  knew  he  was  earning 
his  bread.  He  soon  received  friendly  answers 
to  these  letters,  in  which  he  was  exhorted  to  hu- 


*  A  much-esteemed  publication  which  bears  that  title. 

H 


mility  and  integrity,  and  warned  against  danger 
from  associating  with  unsafe  people. 

Meanwhile,  he  became  known  throughout 
Schauberg.  On  the  Sunday  lbrenoon,  when  he 
attended  church,  he  always  went  up  to  the  or- 
gan-gallery; and  as  the  organist  was  extreme- 
ly old  and  inexpert,  Stilling  felt  confident  that 
during  the  singing  and  on  leaving  church  he 
could  play  better ;  for  although  he  had  never 
learned  to  play  on  the  piano  scientifically,  but 
merely  from  his  own  reflection  and  practice, 
yet  he  played  church-music  very  correctly  from 
the  notes,  and  perfectly  in  four  parts;  he  there- 
fore requested  the  organist  to  let  him  play ;  the 
latter  was  heartily  glad  of  his  as-istance,  and 
permitted  him  to  perform  on  all  occasions. 
Now.  as  he  was  fond  of  continually  touching 
sixths  and  thirds  in  the  preludes  and  interludes, 
and  of  playing  the  softest  and  most  pathetic  keys, 
by  which  the  ear  of  the  vulgar  and  of  those  who- 
do  not  understand  music  is  most  affected;  and 
because,  when  the  service  was  over,  he  always 
played  an  harmonious  vocal  piece,  which  was 
either  tender  or  melancholy,  and  in  which  the 
flute-stop  with  the  tremulant  was  almost  always 
used — every  one  was  attentive  to  the  singular 
organist ;  and  most  of  the  people  stood  before  the 
church  until  he  came  down  from  the  organ  and 
out  of  the  church-door;  when  they  laid  their 
heads  together,  and  asked  each  other  who  it  could 
possibly  be.  At  length  it  was  generally  known 
that  it  was  Mr.  Nagel's  journeyman. 

When  any  one  came  to  Mr.  Nagel,  particular- 
ly respectable  people,  merchants,  men  in  office, 
or  even  learned  men,  who  had  any  orders  to  give 
respecting  clothing,  they  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  Stilling  regarding  his  performance  on 
the  organ;  and  one  word  led  to  another.  At 
that  time,  he  mingled  many  scraps  of  Latin  in 
his  discourse,  particularly  when  conversing  with 
people  whom  he  supposed  to  understand  Latin ; 
this  was  wont  to  astonish  them  all,  not  so  much 
because  of  his  wondrous  learning,  as  because  he 
sat  at  his  needle,  and  yet  spoke  in  such  a  man- 
ner; which,  united  in  one  person,  was  something 
unheard-of,  particularly  in  Schauberg.  All  men, 
whether  high  or  low,  who  became  acquainted 
with  him,  loved  him;  and  this  was  peculiarly 
Stilling's  element:  where  he  was  unknown,  he 
was  silent,  and  where  he  was  not  loved,  melan- 
choly. Mr.  Nagel  and  his  whole  family  honor- 
ed him  in  such  a  manner  that  he  Avas  more  the 
master  than  the  journeyman  in  the  house. 

The  Sunday  afternoon  was  a  most  agreeable 
season  to  them  all.  At  such  times  they  went  to 
a  beautiful  room  in  the  upper  part  of  the  house, 
the  prospect  from  which  was  truly  delightful ; 
Stilling  there  read  to  them  out  of  a  book  which 
Madame  Nagel  had  inherited ;  it  was  an  old 
folio,  with  many  wood-cuts;  the  title  page  was 
lost.  It  treated" of  the  history  and  wars  of  the 
Netherlands,  under  the  government  of  the  Duch- 
ess of  Parma,  the  Duke  of  Alba,  the  great  Corn- 
meter,  &c,  together  with  the  wonderful  adven- 
tures of  Prince  Maurice  of  Nassau.  Stilling 
acted,  at  the  same  time,  the  part  of  a  professor 
who  reads  lectures;  he  explained,  he  related  cir- 
cumstances between  whiles,  and  his  auditory 
were  all  attention.  Narrating  had  always  been  his 
delight,  and  practice  at  length  makes  the  master. 

Towards  evening,  he  went  with  his  master, 
or  rather  his  friend  Nagel,  to  take  a  walk  about 
the  town  ;  and  as  it  is  situated  on  an  eminence 
scarcely  five  leagues  from  the  Rhine,  the  prom- 
enade was  incomparable,  on  account  of  the 


58  HEINRICH 

beautiful  prospect.  Towards  the  west,  this  mag- 
nificent stream  was  seen  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance in  the  rays  of  the  evening  sun,  hastening 
majestically  to  the  Netherlands;  round  about 
lay  a  thousand  bushy  hills,  where  either  flourish- 
ing farms,  or  the  sumptuous  residences  of  mer- 
chants peeped  forth  from  between  the  green 
trees.  On  these  occasions  Nagel's  and  Stirling's 
conversation  was  cordial  and  intimate;  they 
poured  out  their  souls  to  each  other,  and  Stilling 
went  to  bed  as  well  pleased  as  he  had  formerly 
done  at  Zellberg. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Stollbein  was  exceedingly  grat- 
ified that  his  countryman  Stilling  was  so  gener- 
ally beloved,  and  gave  him  hopes  that  in  time 
he  should  be  able  to  provide  for  him  respectably. 

Thus  pleasantly  passed  thirteen  weeks;  and 
I  can  affirm,  that  Stilling,  during  that  time,  was 
neither  ashamed  of  his  trade,  nor  had  any  par- 
ticular desire  to  forsake  it.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  about  the  middle  of  June,  he  was  passing 
one  Sunday  afternoon  through  a  street  in  the 
town  of  Schauberg;  the  sun  shone  pleasantly, 
and  the  sky  was  partially  covered  with  light 
clouds;  he  was  neither  meditating  deeply,  nor 
■had  he  any  thing  else  of  a  particular  nature  in 
his  thoughts.  He  accidentally  looked  upwards, 
and  with  this  look  an  unknown  power  penetrated 
his  soul ;  he  felt  inwardly  happy,  his  whole  body 
trembled,  and  he  could  scarcely  keep  himself 
from  sinking  to  the  ground.  From  that  time,  he 
felt  an  invincible  inclination  to  live  and  die  en- 
tirely for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  his 
fellow-men;  his  love  to  the  Father  of  men,  and 
to  the  divine  Redeemer,  as  well  as  to  all  men, 
was  at  that  moment  so  great,  that  he  would 
gladly  have  sacrificed  his  life,  had  it  been  re- 
quired. He  felt,  at  the  same  time,  an  irresisti- 
ble impulse  to  watch  over  his  thoughts,  words, 
and  works,  that  they  might  all  be  useful,  agree- 
able, and  acceptable  to  God.  He  made  upon  the 
spot  a  firm  and  irrevocable  covenant  with  God, 
to  resign  himself  henceforth  entirely  to  his  gui- 
dance, and  cherish  no  more  vain  wishes;  but 
that  if  it  should  please  God  that  he  should  con- 
tinue a  tradesman  all  his  lifelong,  he  would  will- 
ingly and  joyfully  assent  to  it. 

He  therefore  turned  about,  and  went  home, 
and  told  no  one  of  this  circumstance  ;  but  con- 
tinued as  before,  except  that  he  spoke  less,  and 
more  cautiously,  which  made  him  still  more  be- 
loved. 

This  circumstance  is  a  real  truth.  I  leave  it 
to  men  of  genius,  philosophers,  and  psychologists 
to  make  what  they  please  of  it ;  I  am  well  aware 
what  it  is  that  thus  converts  a  man,  and  so  en- 
tirely changes  him. 

Three  weeks  after  this  took  place.  Stilling 
went  on  the  Sunday  afternoon  to  church;  after 
service,  it  occurred  to  him  at  the  church-door,  to 
pay  a  visit  to  the  schoolmaster  of  the  place;  he 
was  astonished  at  himself  that  he  had  not  done 
so  before;  he  therefore  went  directly  to  him. 
The  latter  was  a  worthy  and  respectable  man  ; 
he  was  already  acquainted  with  Stilling,  and 
was  glad  to  see  him ;  they  drank  tea  together, 
and  afterwards  smoked  a  pipe  of  tobacco.  At 
length,  the  schoolmaster  began,  and  asked  wheth- 
er he  would  not  like  to  enter  upon  a  good  place. 
His  desire  for  it  was  instantly  again  as  great  as 
it  had  ever  been.  "O  yes!"  answered  he;  <;  I 
should  be  heartily  glad  to  do  so."  The  school- 
master continued. "  You  come  as  if  you  had  been 
sent  for:  I  have  received  a  letter  to-day  from  a 
wealthy  merchant,  who  lives  half  a  league  be- 


STILLING. 

yond  Holtzheim,  in  which  he  requests  me  to 
point  out  to  him  a  good  domestic  tutor.  I  did 
not  think  of  you,  until  you  had  entered ;  it  now 
occurs  to  me,  that  you  would  be  the  man  for 
him;  if  you  will  accept  the  situation,  there  is 
no  doubt  you  will  obtain  it."  Stilling  was  heart- 
ily glad  of  it,  and  believed  firmly  that  the  hour 
of  his  deliverance  was  come  ;  he  therefore  said, 
it  had  always  been  his  aim  to  serve  God  and 
his  neighbour  with  his  few  talents,  and  that  he 
should  seize  this  opportunity  with  both  hands, 
because  it  might  tend  to  his  advancement. 
"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  rejoined  the  school- 
master; "  it  depends  solely  upon  your  behaviour, 
and  in  time  you  will  certainly  prosper,  and  ob- 
tain preferment;  I  will  write  next  post-day  to. 
Mr.  Hoch  berg,  and  you  will  soon  be  sent  for." 

After  some  further  discourse,  Stilling  returned 
home.  He  immediately  related  this  event  to  Mr. 
Stollbein,  as  also  to  Mr.  INagel  and  his  family. 
The  clergyman  was  glad,  but  Mr.  Nagel  and  his 
household  were  sorry ;  they  employed  all  their 
eloquence  to  retain  him  with  them,  but  it  was  in 
vain  ;  his  trade  was  again  odious  to  him,  and  the 
time  seemed  tedious  until  he  reached  his  desti- 
nation. However,  he  now  felt  something  with- 
in him  which  continually  opposed  such  an  en- 
gagement; this  "unknown  something"  convin- 
ced him  in  his  mind  that  his  present  inclination 
again  proceeded  from  the  old  corrupt  motive. 
His  new  conscience,  if  I  may  so  speak,  had 
awoke  in  him  only  since  the  Sunday  above 
mentioned,  when  he  experienced  such  a  power- 
ful inward  change.  This  conviction  pained 
him;  he  felt  that  it  was  true — but  his  inclina- 
tion was  too  strong,  he  could  not  resist  it;  be- 
sides this,  a  species  of  serpent,  had  insinuated 
itself  into  him,  which  sought  to  help  itself  by  the 
aid  of  reason,  suggesting  to  him  as  follows: 
"  Hath  God  indeed  determined  that  thou  shouldst 
remain  eternally  sitting  at  the  needle,  and  bury 
thy  talents  1  By  no  means  !  thou  must  lay  out 
thy  talent  to  usury  the  first  opportunity;  do  not 
let  thyself  be  persuaded  to  the  contrary;  it  is  a 
mere  hypochondriacal  phantom."  Conscience 
then  again  whispered,  "  But  how  often  hast  thou 
been  desirous  of  laying  out  thy  talent  in  the  in- 
struction of  youth,  and  how  has  it  then  fared 
wiih  thee'?"  The  serpent  knew  how  to  object  to 
this  by  replying,  "Those  were  purifications,  in- 
tended to  fit  thee  for  important  employments." 
Stilling  gave  credence  to  the  serpent,  and  con- 
science was  silent. 

The  following  Sunday,  a  messenger  came 
from  Mr.  Hochberg  to  fetch  Stilling.  All  wept 
at  his  departure  ;  but  he  left  them  with  joy.  On 
arriving  at  Hollzheim,  they  went  to  old  Brauer, 
who  had  related  his  history  to  Stilling  on  his 
first  passing  through  the  village;  he  told  the 
honest  old  man  his  renewed  good-fortune;  but 
the  latter  did  not,  as  it  seemed,  particularly  re- 
joice at  it;  however,  he  said,  "This  is,  for  you, 
a  good  beginning."  Stilling  imagined  the  man 
might  have  his  reasons  for  saying  so. 

After  proceeding  half  a  league  further,  they 
reached  Mr.  Hochberg's  house.  It  lay  in  a  lit 
tie  pleasant,  valley  by  a  beautiful  brook,  not  fai 
from  the  hi^h-road  by  which  Stilling  had  travel- 
led. On  entering  the  house,  Madame  Hochberg 
came  out  of  the  parlour.  She  was  splendidly 
dressed,  and  a  lady  of  uncommon  beauty.  She 
saluted  Stilling  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  told 
him  to  go  into  the  parlour.  He  went  in,  and 
found  an  excellently  furnished  and  beautifully- 
papered  apartment.    Two  fine-looking  boys  en- 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


59 


tered,  with  a  pretty  girl;  the  boys  were  dressed 
in  scarlet  clothes,  in  the  hussar  fashion  ;  but  the 
girl  quite  in  the  style  of  a  princess.  The  good 
children  came,  in  order  to  pay  their  respects  to 
their  new  tutor ;  they  made  their  obeisances  as 
they  had  been  taught,  and  stepped  towards  him 
to  kiss  his  hand.  Now  such  a  thing  had  never 
before  happened  to  Stilling  in  his  whole  life;  he 
knew  neither  how  to  act  nor  what  to  say;  they 
seized  his  hand,  but  as  he  held  the  hollow  of  it 
to  them,  they  were  obliged  to  take  the  trouble  of 
turning  it  about,  in  order  to  press  their  little 
mouths  upon  the  back  of  it.  Stilling  now  per- 
ceived how  he  had  to  behave  on  the  occasion ; 
•  but  the  children  skipped  away  again,  and  were 
glad  that  they  had  finished  their  task. 

Mr.  Hochberg  and  his  old  father-in-law  were 
gone  to  church,  while  his  lady  was  occupied  in 
making  her  domestic  arrangements  in  the  kitch- 
en. Stilling  was  therefore  alone  in  the  room; 
he  clearly  saw  what  was  requisite  here,  and  that 
he  was  defective  in  two  essential  things,  in  order 
to  be  private  tutor  at  Mr.  Hochberg's.  He  was 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  science  of  politeness; 
for  although  he  had  not  been  brought  up  in  stu- 
pid rudeness,  yet  he  had  never  made  a  bow  in 
all  his  life — every  thing  had  been  hitherto  ver- 
bal salutation,  and  a  shake  of  the  hand.  His 
language  was  his  native  dialect,  in  which,  at  the 
most,  he  could  only  honor  a  person  with  the  lit- 
tle word  "You."  And  secondly,  his  clothes 
were  not  fashionable,  nor  even  good,  but  coarse 
and  much  worn.  He  had  earned,  it  is  true, 
eight  guilders  at  Mr.  Nagel:s,  but  what  was  that 
in  such  want  of  every  thing!  For  two  guilders 
he  had  purchased  a  pair  of  new  shoes,  a  hat  for 
two  more,  a  shirt  for  two,  and  two  he  had  in  his 
pocket.  But  all  this  outlay  was  scarcely  visible 
upon  him ;  he  immediately  felt  that  he  would  be 
daily  ashamed;  he  had  also  hourly  to  learn,  by 
attention,  a  more  polite  behaviour,  and  to  en- 
deavour by  his  faithful  diligence,  ability,  and 
good  conduct,  to  gain  the  favor  of  his  employers, 
so  that  they  might  gradually  help  him  out  of  his 
necessities. 

Mr.  Hochberg,  at  length,  also  made  his  ap- 
pearance, for  it  was  noon.  He  united  in  one 
person  every  thing  that  can  be  called  dignity  and 
mercantile  respectability.  He  was  a  good-look- 
ing man,  tall,  and  rather  corpulent;  he  had  a 
very  round  face,  of  a  brown  complexion,  with 
large  jet-black  eyes,  and  rather  thick  lips ;  and 
when  he  spoke,  two  rows  of  teeth  like  alabaster 
always  showed  themselves;  his  gait  and  pos- 
ture were  perfectly  Spanish,  but  I  must  at  the 
same  time  confess  there  was  nothing  affected  in 
it,  but  all  was  natural  to  him.  On  entering  the 
room,  he  looked  at  Stilling,  just  as  great  prin- 
ces are  wont  to  look  at  any  one.  This  look  pen- 
etrated Stilling  through  and  through,  perhaps  as 
forcibly  as  that  did  which  he  nine  years  after- 
wards felt  in  the  presence  of  one  of  the  greatest 
princes  of  Germany  ;  and  his  knowledge  of  the 
world  at  that  time,  was  probably  in  the  same  pro- 
portion as  Hochberg  with  this  excellent  prince. 

After  this  look,  Mr.  Hochberg  nodded  at  Still- 
ing, and  said,  "  Serviteur,  monsieur!" 

Stilling  immediately  collected  himself,  bowed, 
as  well  as  he  could,  and  said,  "  Your  servant, 
worthy  sir!" 

To  confess  the  truth,  he  had  studied  for  an 
hour  over  this  compliment;  but  as  he  could  not 
know  before-hand  what  Hochberg  would  say 
further,  there  was  an  end  to  it,  as  well  as  to  his 
dexterity.    Mr.  Hochberg  paced  the  room  a  few 


limes ;  he  then  looked  at  Stilling  again,  and  said, 
"Are  you  resolved  to  serve  with  me  as  a  pre- 
ceptor'?" 

Staling.—"  Yes." 

Hochberg. — <:  Do  you  understand  languages  V 

Stilling. — "  Latin,  pretty  well." 

Hochberg. — "  Bon,  monsieur!  You  do  not  in- 
deed require  it,  but  the  connoissance  of  it  is  most 
essential  in  orthography.  Do  you  understand 
arithmetic  also  1" 

Stilling.—11 1  have  exercised  myself  in  geom- 
etry, for  which  arithmetic  is  requisite;  1  have 
also  studied  a  little  in  dialling  and  mathemat- 
ics." 

Höchberg. — "  Eh  bien  I  that's  clever ;  that  pleas- 
es me.  I  will  give  you,  together  with  board  and 
lodging,  twenty-five  guilders  a  year." 

Stilling  was  satisfied  with  it,  although  it  seem- 
ed to  him  rather  too  little;  he  therefore  said,  "  I 
shall  be  content,  with  what  you  may  add  to  it; 
and  I  hope  you  will  give  me  what  I  may  de- 
serve." 

Hochberg. — "  Oui;  your  conduile  will  deter- 
mine how  I  may  act  in  that  respect." 

They  now  went  to  dinner.  Stilling  saw  here 
also  how  much  he  had  still  to  learn  before  he 
could  bring  meat  and  drink  to  his  mouth  a  la 
mode.  But  notwithstanding  all  these  difficulties, 
he  felt  within  him  a  secret  joy,  on  being  at  length 
elevated  from  the  dust,  and  introduced  into  the 
circle  of  respectable  people,  for  which  he  had  so 
much  longed.  All  that  he  saw,  which  apper- 
tained to  propriety  of  behaviour  and  good  man- 
ners, he  observed  most  minutely;  he  even  exer- 
cised himself  in  making  proper  obeisances,  when 
he  was  alone  in  his  chamber,  when  no  one  could 
see  him.  He  regarded  his  present  situation  as 
a  school,  where  the  opportunity  was  afforded 
him  of  learning  decorum  and  politeness. 

The  next  day  he  began  to  attend  to  the  tuition 
of  the  two  boys  and  the  girl ;  he  had  great  pleas- 
ure in  the  children,  for  they  were  well  brought 
up,  and  particularly  very  obliging  towards  their 
teacher,  and  this  sweetened  all  his  labor.  A  few 
days  after,  Mr.  Hochberg  set  off  for  the  fair. 
His  departure  grieved  Stilling,  for  he  was  the 
only  one  that  could  converse  with  him ;  the  rest 
spoke  always  upon  such  subjects  as  were  en- 
tirely indifferent  to  him. 

Thus  passed  some  weeks  very  pleasantly, 
without  Stilling's  having  any  thing  to  wish  for, 
except  that  he  might  at  length  be  provided  with 
better  clothes.  He  wrote  an  aceount  of  this 
change  in  his  circumstances  to  his  father,  and 
received  a  pleasing  reply. 

Mr.  Hochberg  returned  at  Michaelmas.  Still- 
ins:  was  glad  of  his  arrival ;  but  this  joy  was  not 
of  long  duration.  A  total  change  gradually  took 
place,  which  rendered  his  situation  painful  to 
him.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hochberg  had  thought  that 
their  preceptor  had  still  clothes  at  Schauberg. 
But  when  they  saw,  at  length,  that  he  had  really 
brought  all  he'  had  with  him,  they  began  to  think 
meanly  of  him,  and  to  mistrust  him ;  they  lock- 
ed everything  up  in  his  presence,  were  reserved, 
and  he  perceived  from  their  conversation  that 
they  looked  upon  him  as  a  vagabond.  Now 
there  was  nothing  in  the  world  more  repugnant 
to  Stilling  than  to  be  suspected  of  the  slightest 
breach  of  trust,  and  therefore  this  circumstance 
was  quite  intolerable  to  him.  It  is  likewise  in- 
conceivable how  the  good  people  could  fall  upon 
such  a  satanic  idea.  However,  it  is  most  prob- 
able that  some  one  of  the  servants  was  unfaith- 
ful, who  sought  to  transfer  the  suspicion  to  him, 


60 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


behind  his  back ;  and  the  worst  of  it  was,  they 
did  not  openly  make  any  charge  against  him, 
which  deprived  him  of  all  opportunity  of  defend- 
ing himself. 

By  degrees,  they  made  his  duties  more  diffi- 
cult. As  soon  as  he  arose  in  the  morning,  he 
went  down  into  the  parlour;  they  then  drank 
coffee,  which  was  over  by  seven  o'clock,  and  he 
was  obliged  immediately  to  accompany  the  chil- 
dren into  the  school-room,  which  consisted  of  a 
little  chamber,  four  feet  wide  and  ten  feet  long; 
he  did  not  come  out  of  it  till  between  twelve  and 
two  o'clock,  when  he  was  called  to  dinner;  and 
directly  after  that,  he  went  in  again  until  four, 
when  they  drank  tea;  immediately  after  tea  it 
was  said  again,  "Now,  children,  to  school!" 
and  then  he  did  not  leave  it  again  before  nine 
o'clock,  when  supper  was  served;  after  which 
he  went  to  bed. 

In  this  manner,  he  had  not  a  moment  for  him- 
self, except  on  Sundays ;  and  these  he  also  spent 
sorrowfully,  because,  on  account  of  his  want  of 
clothes,  he  could  no  longer  go  to  the  door,  much 
less  to  church.  If  he  had  continued  at  Schau- 
berg, Mr.  Nagel  would  by  degrees  have  suffi- 
ciently provided  for  him,  for  he  had,  in  fact,  made 
remote  preparations  for  so  doing. 

A  three-headed  monster  was  now  really  let 
loose  upon  poor  Stilling.  The\  most  extreme 
poverty,  a  continual  incarceration  or  imprison- 
ment, and  thirdly,  an  insufferable  mistrust,  and 
the  extreme  contempt  for  him  which  resulted 
from  it. 

Towards  Martinmas,  all  his  susceptibilities 
awoke,  his  eyes  opened,  and  he  saw  the  blackest 
melancholy  approaching  him  Hkß  a  legion  of 
devils.  He  called  aloud  to  God  so  that  it  might 
have  been  heard  from  pole  to  pole,  but  there  was 
no  longer  any  feeling  of  consolation ;  he  could 
not  even  once  think  of  God  so  that  his  heart 
might  have  participated  in  it ;  and  this  dreadful 
torment  he  had  never  before  been  acquainted 
with,  even  by  name,  much  less  ever  experienced 
the  least  of  it.  Besides  this,  he  had  not  about 
him  a  single  faithful  soul  to  whom  he  could  com- 
municate his  circumstances;  nor  had  he  clothes 
to  seek  for  such  a  friend— they  were  torn,  and 
time  was  not  even  allowed  him  to  repair  them. 

He  thought  at  the  very  commencement,  that 
he  would  not  long  be  able  to  hold  out  under  such 
circumstances;  and  yet  they  daily  grew  worse. 
His  master  and  mistress,  and  every  one  else, 
troubled  themselves  as  little  about  him  as  if  he 
had  not  been  in  the  world,  although  they  were 
well  satisfied  with  his  tuition. 

As  Christmas  drew  near,  his  painful  situa- 
tion increased.  The  whole  of  the  day  he  was 
qiyte  stiff  and  reserved;  but  in  the  evening, 
about  ten  o'clock,  when  he  retired  to  his  chamber, 
his  tears  began  to  flow,  he  trembled  and  shook 
like  a  malefactor  who  is  about  to  be  broken  on 
the  wheel;  and  when  he  was  lying  in  bed,  he 
struggled  in  such  a  manner  with  his  mental  tor- 
ment, that  the  whole  bed,  and  even  the  glass  in 
the  windows  shook,  till  he  fell  asleep,  it  was 
still  very  fortunate  for  him  that  he  was  able  to 
sleep;  but  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning,  and 
the  sun  shone  upon  his  bed,  he  was  horrified, 
and  was  again  stiff  and  cold;  the  beautiful  sun 
.seemed  to  him  nothing  else  than  the  wrathful 
eye  of  God,  which,  like  a  flaming  world,  threat- 
ened to  hurl  down  thunder  and  lightning  upon 
him.  But  all  the  day  long  the  heavens  appeared 
red  to  him,  and  he  started  at  the  sight  of  every 
living  being,  as  if  it  had  been  a  ghost;  while, 


on  the  contrary,  it  would  have  been  a  joy  and  \ 
refreshment  to  him  to  have  watched  in  some 
gloomy  abyss/ between  corpses  and  terrible  ob- 
jects. 

At  length  he  found  time,  during  the  holidays, 
to  give  his  clothes  a  thorough  repair;  he  turned 
his  coat,  and  put  every  thing  to  rights  as  well  as 
he  could.  Poverty  is  the  motheMMjfvention ; 
and  he  covered  his  deficiencies  in  thorn a  manner 
that  he  could  at  least  go  a  few  times  to  church 
at  Holtzheim,  without  being  ashamed;  but  he 
had  become,  so  pale  and  thin  that  he  could  no 
longer  cover  his  teeth  with  his  lips;  the  features 
of  his  face  were  dreadfully  disfigured  by  sorrow, 
his  eyebrows  were  raised  up  very  high,  and  his 
forehead  was  full  of  wrinkles ;  his  eyes  lay  wild, 
deep,  and  dark  in  his  head ;  his  upper  lip,  with 
the  nostrils,  had  drawn  itself  upwards,  and  the^ 
corners  of  his  mouth  sank  down  with  the  skinny*^ 
cheeks ;  every  one  who  saw  him  considered  him 
fixedly,  and  turned  away  from  him  with  appre- 
hension. 

On  Sunday,  after  new-year,  he  went  to  church. 
There  was  no  one  of  all  the  people  who  spoke 
to  him,  except  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brück:  he  had  ob- 
served him  from  the  pulpit,  and  when  the  sermon 
was  over,  the  worthy  man  hastened  out  of  the 
church,  sought  for  him  among  the  people  who 
stood  at  the  door,  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and 
said,  "  Come  with  me,  tutor !  you  shall  dine  with 
me,  and  spend  the  afternoon  with  me."  It  is  in- 
expressible what  an  effect  these  kind  words  had 
upon  his  mind;  he  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
weeping  and  crying  aloud ;  the  tears  flowed  in 
streams  down  his  cheeks ;  he  could  not  answer 
the  preacher  a  word,  and  the  latter  asked  him  no 
further  questions,  but  conducted  him  directly  to 
his  house ;  his  lady  and  the  children  were  shock- 
ed at  his  appearance,  and  heartily  pitied  him. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Brück  had  unrobed,  they  sat 
down  to  table.    The  clergyman  immediately  be- 
gan to  speak  of  his  situation,  and  that  so  power- 
fully and  emphatically,  that  Stilling  did  nothing-.  ( 
but  weep  aloud,  and  all  that  sat  at  table  wept 
with  him.    This  excellent  man  read  in  his  soul 
what  was  the  matter  with  him;  he  impressively 
asserted  that  all  the  sufferings  he  had  hitherto 
endured  had  been  only  purifying  fires,  by  which 
eternal  love  sought  to  put  away  his  pride,  and 
to  make  him  meet  for  some  peculiar  purpose — 
that  his  present  painful  situation  had  been  allot- 
ted him  for  the  same  reason,  and  it  would  not  be 
long  before  the  Lord  would  graciously  deliver 
him ;  and  similar  consolations  of  the  kind,  which 
refreshed  the  parched  soul  of  poor  Stilling  like 
a  cool  dew.    But  this  consolation  did  not  last 
I  long;  he  was  obliged  to  return  in  the  evening  to 
j  his  prison,  and  the  pain,  after  this  refreshment, 
j  was  only  the  more  intolerable. 
:    These  dreadful  sufferings  continued  from  Mar- 
j  tinmas  to  the  12th  of  April,  1762,  consequently 
;  nineteen  or  twenty  weeks.    This  day  was  there- 
j  fore  the  happy  epoch  of  his  deliverance.  He 
j  rose  early  in  "the  morning  with  the  very  same 
painful  sufferings  with  which  he  had  lain  down 
to  sleep ;  he  went  down  as  usual  to  breakfast, 
drank  coffee,  and  from  thence  to  the  school-room. 
At  nine  o'clock,  as  he  was  sitting  at  the  table  in 
his  prison,  and  quite  retired  within  himself,  en- 
during the  fire  of  his  sufferings,  he  suddenly  felt 
his  state  completely  changed  :  all  his  melancholy 
and  pain  had  wholly  disappeared ;  he  felt  such  a 
delight  and  profound  peace  in  his  soul,  that  he 
knew  not  what  to  do  for  joy  and  felicity.  He 
bethought  himself,  and  perceived  that  he  was 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


61 


willing  to  go  away ;  he  had  taken  this  resolution 
without  being  conscious  of  it;  he  therefore  rose 
up  the  same  moment,  went  up  to  his  bedroom, 
and  reflected  upon  his  circumstances.  How 
many  tears  of  joy  and  gratitude  flowed  there, 
those  alone-  can  comprehend  who  have  been 
themselve|iin  a  similar  situation. 

He  nowMacked  his-  few  remaining  rags  to- 
gether, böuml  up  his  hat  with  them,  but  left  his 
slick  Ibehind.  This  bundle  he  threw  out  of  a 
window  into  the  yard  behind  the  house,  then 
went  down  again,  and  walked,  with  perfect  in- 
difference, out  of  the  gate,  went  behind  the  house, 
took  his  bundle,  and  walked  as  fast  as  he  could 
up  the  field,  and  pretty  far  into  the  thicket.  He 
there  put  on  his  worn  out  coat,  his  hat,  and  put 
his  old  chamois-frock,  which  he  wore  in  the 
week  days,  into  his  bundle,  cut  a  stick  on  which 
he  supported  himself,  and  wandered  northwards 
over  hill  and  dale  without  any  certain  path. 
His  mind  was  now  quite  tranquil;  he  tasted  the 
sweetness  of  liberty  in  all  its  fulness ;  but  he 
was  still  so  stupifiedand  almost  insensible,  that 
he  did  not  reflect  upon  his  situation,  and  was 
incapable  of  thinking.  Alter  walking  onwards 
for  almost  an  hour  through  waste  places,  he  hit 
upon  a  high  road,  and  then  saw,  about  a  league 
before  him,  a  little  town  upon  a  hill,  to  which 
this  road  led;  he  followed  it  involuntarily,  and 
about  eleven  o'clock  arrived  at  the  gates.  He 
there  asked  the  name  of  the.town,  and  was  told 
it  was  Waldstatt,  which  he  had  sometimes  heard 
mentioned.  He  went  in  at  one  gate,  directly 
through  the  town,  and  out  of  the  other.  There 
he  found  two  roads,  which  sejmed  to  him  equally 
trodden;  he  chose  one  of  them,  and  went,  or 
rather  ran  forwards  upon  it.  After  travelling 
scarcely  half  a  league,  he  found  himself  in  a 
wood,  the  road  disappeared,  and  he  saw  no  fur- 
ther trace  of  it.  He  sat  down,  for  he  had  tired 
himself  with  running.  All  his  mental  faculties 
now  returned ;  he  recollected  himself,  and  found 
that  he  had  not  a  single  farthing  of  money  in  his 
pocket,  having  demanded  little  or  nothing  of  his 
salary  from  Mr.  Hochberg;  besides  which,  he 
was  hungry,  he  was  in  a  wilderness,  and  did 
not  know  a  single  individual,  far  and  wide,  that 
was  acquainted  with  him. 

He  now  began  to  say  to  himself,  "  I  have  at 
length  ascended  the  highest  summit  of  abandon- 
ment; nothing  more  is  left  me  but  to  beg  or  die. 
This  is  the  first  day  in  my  life  in  which  I  know 
of  no  dinner  provided  for  me !    Yes,  the  hour  is 
come,  when  that  great  promise  of  the  Redeem- 
er is  put  to  the  highest  test,  as  it  respects  me, 
'  Not  a  hair  of  your  head  shall  perish !'    If  this 
be  true,  I  must  have  immediate  aid;  for  to  this 
moment  I  have  trusted  in  Him,  and  believed  his 
word.    1  belong  to  those  eyes  that  wait  upon  the 
Lord,  that  He  may  give  them  their  meat  in  due 
season,  and  satisfy  them  with  his  good  pleasure ; 
I  am  his  creature,  at  least  as  much  as  any  bird 
that  sings  in  the  trees,  and  always  finds  it's  food  : 
when  it  requires  it."    Selling's  heart,  at  these 
words,  was  in  a  state  similar  to  that  of  a  child  ' 
when  by  severe  correction  it  melts  at  length  like  i 
wax,  and  the  father  turns  away  to  hide  his  tears.  ' 
O  God!  what  moments  are  these,  when  it  is  i 
manifest  how  the  bowels  of  the  Father  of  men  j 
yearn  over  them,  and  when,  from  compassion, 
He  can  no  longer  restrain  himself.  ] 

While  reflecting  thus,  his  mind  was  suddenly 
at  ease,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  some  one  I 
whispered  to  him,  "Go  into  (he  town  and  seek  i 
a  master!"  He  turned  about  the  same  moment,  ; 


and  feeling  in  one  of  his  pockets,  he  found  that 
he  had  his  scissors  and  thimble  with  him,  with- 
out knowing  it.  He  returned,  therefore,  and 
went  in  at  the  gate.  He  found  a  person  stand- 
ing before  his  door,  whom  he  saluted,  and  asked 
where  the  best  master-tailor  in  the  town  lived. 
The  man  called  a  child,  and  said  to  it,  "Take 
this  person  to  Mr.  Isaac."  The  child  ran  before 
Stilling,  and  conducted  him  to  a  small  house,  in 
a  remote  corner  of  the  town ;  he  went  in,  and  en- 
tered the  parlour.  Here  he  found  a  pale,  thin, 
but  civil  and  cleanly  woman,  who  was  spread- 
ing the  cloth,  in  order  to  dine  with  her  children. 
Stilling  saluted  her,  and  asked  her  whether  he 
could  have  work  there.  The  woman  looked  at 
him.  and  considered  him  from  head  to  foot. 
"Yes,"  said  she,  in  a  modest  and  friendly  man- 
ner ;  "  my  husband  is  at  a  loss  for  a  journey- 
man ;  where  are  you  from  V  Stilling  answer- 
ed, "  From  the  province  of  Salen."  The  woman 
j  brightened  up,  and  said,  "My  husband  is  also 
from  that  part;  I  will  send  for  him."  He  was 
gone  to  work  at  a  house  in  the  town,  with  a 
journeyman  and  apprentice;  and  she  sent  one 
of  the  children  thither  to  fetch  him.  In  a  few 
minutes  Mr.  Isaac  entered  the  hou%e ;  his  wife 
told  him  what  she  knew,  and  he  made  further 
inquiries  regarding  what  he  wished  to  know; 
he  then  willingly  took  him  into  his  employ. 
His  wife  now  invited  him  to  sit  down  with  them, 
and  thus  his  dinner  had  been  already  prepared 
for  him,  while  he  was  wandering  in  the  wood 
and  reflecting  whether  God  would  that  day 
grant  him  his  necessary  food  ! 

Mr.  Isaac  stayed  and  dined  with  them.  After 
dinner,  he  took  him  to  work  with  him  at  a  bail- 
iff's, whose  name  was  Schauerof;  this  man 
was  a  baker,  a  tall,  thin  personage.  After  Mr. 
Isaac  and  his  new  journeyman  had  sat  down, 
and  began  to  work,  the  bailiff  came  also,  with 
his  long  pipe,  sat  down  with  the  tailors,  and 
commenced  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Isaac, 
where  they  had  probablv  previously  left  off. 

"Yes,"  said  the  bailiff;  "the  idea  that  I  form 
to  myself  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  is,  that  of  an 
omnipresent  power,  which  every  where  seeks 
entrance  into  the  hearts  of  men,  in  order  to 
change  every  soul  into  its  own  nature;  now, 
the  further  any  one  is  from  God,  the  more 
estranged  is  he  from  this  Spirit.  What  dost 
thou  think  of  it,  brother  Isaac.'?" 

"  I  view  the  matter  much  in  the  same  man- 
ner," rejoined  the  latter;  "it  chiefly  depends 
upon  the  will  of  man  ;  the  will  makes  him  sus- 
ceptible of  it." 

Stilling  could  now  no  longer  restrain  himself; 
he  felt  that  he  was  with  pious  people ;  he  began 
all  on  a  sudden  to  weep  aloud,  behind  the  table, 
and  exclaim,  "O  God,  I  am  at  home!  1  am  at 
home !"  All  who  were  present  started,  and 
were  astonished ;  they  knew  not  what  was  the 
matter  with  him.  Mr.  Isaac  looked  at  him, 
and  said,  "What  is  the  matter,  Stillingl"  (for 
he  had  told  him  his  name.)  Stilling  answered, 
"  It  is  long  since  I  have  heard  this  language ;  and 
as  I  now  see  that  you  are  people  who  love  God, 
I  was  unable  to  contain  myself  for  joy."  Mr. 
Isaac  continued,  "Are  you  then  a  friend  of  re- 
ligion and  true  godliness  V 

"  Oh  yes,"  rejoined  Stilling,  "  from  my  very 
heart !" 

The  bailiff  laughed  for  joy,  and  said,  "We 
have  therefore  one  brother  more."  Mr.  Isaac 
and  bailiff  Schauerof  shook  him  by  the  hand, 
and  were  much  pleased.    In  the  evening,  after 


62 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


supper,  Ihe  journeyman  and  apprentice  went 
home;  but  the  bailiff,  Isaac,  and  Stilling,  con- 
tinued long  together,  conversing  in  an  edifying 
manner  on  religious  subjects. 

Heinrich  Stilling  now  lived  again  content- 
edly at  Waldstatt;  after  so  much  suffering  and 
imprisonment,  peace  and  liberty  tasted  so  much 
the  sweeter.  He  had  not  written  one  word  con- 
cerning his  distresses  to  his  father,  in  order  that 
he  might  not  grieve  him;  but  now,  having  left 
Mr.  Hochberg's  and  living  again  at  his  trade, 
he  wrote  him  much,  but  not  all.  The  answer 
which  he  received,  was  a  reiteration  of  what  he 
had  often  told  him,  that  he  was  not  destined  for 
the  instruction  of  youth. 

Alter  Stilling  had  been  some  days  with  Mr. 
Isaac,  the  latter  once  began,  while  they  were  at 
work  together,  during  the  absence  of  the  other 
journeyman  and  apprentice,  to  speak  to  him  re- 
specting his  clothes,  and  inquired  minutely  con- 
cerning every  thing  he  had.  After  Isaac  had 
heard  all,  he  immediately  rose  up,  and  fetched 
some  beautiful  violet-coloured  cloth  for  a  coat, 
a  fine  new  hat,  black  cloth  for  a  waistcoat,  stuff 
for  an  under-waistcoat  and  trowsers,  and  a  pair 
of  good  fine  stockings;  the  shoemaker  had  or- 
ders to  measure  him  for  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  his 
wife  made  him  six  new  shirts ;  all  this  was  ready 
in  a  fortnight.  His  master  then  put  one  of  his 
walking-sticks  into  his  hand  ;  and  Stilling  was 
now  better  clothed  than  ever  he  had  been  in  his 
life;  besides  which,  every  thing  was  according 
to  the  fashion,  and  now  he  was  not  ashamed  to 
be  seen. 

This  was  the  last  enemy  that  was  to  be  over- 
come. Stilling  could  not  sufficiently  express 
his  heartfelt  gratitude  to  God  and  his  benefac- 
tor; he  wept  for  joy,  and  was  completely  com- 
fortable and  happy.  But  blessed  be  thy  ashes, 
thou  friend  of  Stilling,  where  thou  liest  and  re- 
posest !  When  once  the  words  shall  resound 
over  a  flaming  world,  "J  was  naked,  and  ye 
clothed  me!"  then  shalt  thou  also  lift  up  thy 
head,  and  thy  glorified  body  will  shine  seven 
times  more  brilliantly  than  the  sun  on  a  sum- 
mer's morning ! 

Stilling's  inclination  to  rise  higher  in  the 
world  was  for  this  time,  so  to  speak,  completely 
torn  up  by  the  roots;  and  he  was  firmly  and  ir- 
revocably resolved  to  remain  a  tailor,  until  he 
should  be  clearly  convinced  that  it  was  the  will 
of  God  he  should  begin  something  else.  In  a 
word,  he  solemnly  renewed  the  covenant  with 
God,  which  he  had  made  the  previous  summer, 
on  the  Sunday  afternoon,  in  the  street  of  Schau- 
berg.  His  master  was  also  so  satisfied  with 
him  that  he  treated  him  in  every  respect  as  his 
companion  ;  but  his  wife  loved  him  as  tenderly 
as  a  sister;  and  the  children  likewise  were  fond 
of  him,  so  that  he  again  lived  in  his  proper  ele- 
ment. 

His  fondness  for  the  sciences,  indeed,  still  re- 
mained what  it  had  been;  however,  it  rested 
under  the  ashes — he  had  no  longer  a  passion  for 
them,  and  he  let  them  rest. 

Mr.  Isaac  had  a  large  acquaintance  with  pi- 
ous and  awakened  people  for  five  leagues  round 
Waldstatt.  Sunday  was  appointed  for  visiting; 
he  therefore  went,  early  on  the  Sunday  morning, 
with  Stilling,  to  the  place  they  had  resolved 
upon,  and  after  spending  the  day  with  their 
friends,  returned  home  in  the  evening.  Or  if 
they  intended  to  go  far,  thev  set  out  together  on 
the  Sunday  afternoon,  and  returned  on  ihe  Mon- 
day morning.    It  afforded  joy  to  Stilling's  soul 


to  become  acquainted  with  so  many  virtuous 
characters ;  and  he  was  particularly  pleased 
that  all  these  people  had  nothing  enthusias- 
tic, but  simply  sought  to  exercise  love  to  God 
and  man,  and  to  imitate  Christ,  their  Head,  in 
their  walk  and  conversation.  This  fully  ac- 
corded with  Stilling's  religious  system,  and 
therefore  he  united  with  all  these  people  in  sin- 
cere and  fraternal  affection.  And  in  reality, 
this  connexion  had  an  excellent  effect  upon, 
him.  Isaac  continually  admonished  him  to 
watch  and  pray,  and  always  fraternally  remind- 
ed him  when  he  was  not  sufficiently  careful  in 
his  conversation.  This  manner  of  life  was  be- 
yond measure  useful  to  him,  and  prepared  himr 
more  and  more,  for  what  God  intended  to  make 
of  him. 

In  the  middle  of  May — I  believe  it  was  near 
Whitsuntide  —  Mr.  Isaac  determined  to  visit 
some  very  pious  friends  in  the  province  of  Mark, 
about  six  leagues  from  Waldstatt ;  they  dwelt  in 
a  little  town,  which  I  will  here  call  Rothenbeck. 
He  took  Stilling  with  him  :  it  was  most  delightful 
weather,  and  the  way  thither  led  through  a  charm- 
ing part  of  the  country ;  at  one  time  across  a  mead- 
ow; at  another  through  a  green  thicket  filled  with 
nightingales  ;  sometimes  up  a  field  covered  with 
flowers;  at  others,  over  a  bushy  hill;  sometimes 
on  a  heath,  where  the  scenery  around  was  para- 
disiacal; then  into  a  large  wood;  afterwards 
along  a  cool  and  murmuring  brook,  and  thu» 
continually  changing  as  they  proceeded.  Our 
two  pilgrims  were  healthy  and  well,  without 
care  or  sorrow  ;  they  had  peace  both  within  and 
without,  loved  each  other  as  brethren,  saw  and 
experienced  every  where  the  goodness  and  near- 
ness of  the  Father  of  all  things  in  nature,  and 
possessed  a  number  of  good  friends  in  the  world, 
and  few  or  no  enemies.  They  walked,  or  rath- 
er ran,  hand-in-hand,  along  their  way,  spoke 
quite  confidentially  on  all  kinds  of  subjects,  or 
sang  some  edifying  hymn,  until  they  arrived,  to- 
wards evening,  without  wreariness  or  difficulty,, 
at  Rothenbeck.  They  took  up  their  residence 
with  a  very  worthy  and  affluent  friend,  to  whom 
they  therefore  proved  the  less  burdensome.  The 
name  of  this  friend  was  Glöckner,  who  was  a 
tradesman,  and  dealt  in  a  variety  of  wares^ 
This  man  and  his  wife  had  no  children.  They 
both  received  the  strangers  with  cordial  affec- 
tion ;  and  though  they  were  not  yet  acquainted 
with  Stilling,  yet  they  were  very  friendly  to- 
wards him,  on  Isaac's  assuring  them  that  he  was 
of  the  same  will  and  sentiments  with  them  all. 

During  supper,  in  the  evening,  Glöckner  re- 
lated a  very  remarkable  tale  regarding  his  broth- 
er-in-law Freymuth,  which  was  to  the  following 
effect: — Madame  Freymuth  was  Glöckner's 
wife's  sister,  and  of  one  mind  with  her  concern- 
ing religion;  the  two  sisters  therefore  came  fre- 
quently together,  with  other  friends,  on  the  Sun- 
day afternoon,  when  they  recapitulated  the 
morning's  sermon,  read  in  the  Bible,  and  sang 
hymns.  Freymuth  could  not  bear  this  at  all  \ 
he  was  an  arch  enemy  to  such  things,  notwith- 
standing he  went  diligently  to  church  and  sacra- 
ment, but  that  was  all ;  horrible  oaths,  drinking, 
gamin?,  licentious  conversation,  and  fighting, 
were  his  most  gratifying  amusements,  in  which 
he  passed  his  time  afier  his  business  was  fin- 
ished. When  he  came  home  in  the  evening, 
and  found  his  wife  reading  the  Bible,  or  some 
other  edifying  book,  he  began  to  swear  in  a 
dieadful  manner,  and  to  say  to  her,  "  Thou  cant- 
ing, pietistic  d  .  knowest  thou  not  that  I  wilt 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


C3 


not  have  thee  read  V  He  then  seized  her  by  the 
hair,  dragged  her  about  upon  the  ground,  and 
beat  her  till  the  blood  gushed  from  her  nose  and 
mouth;  however,"  she  did  not  say  a  word,  but 
when  he  left  off,  she  embraced  his  knees,  and 
besought  him,  with  many  tears,  to  be  converted 
and  change  his  course  of  life ;  he  then  kicked 
her  away  from  him  with  his  feet,  and  said,  "  That 
I  will  not,  thou  wretch  !  J  will  be  no  hypocrite, 
like  thee."  He  treated  her  in  the  same  manner 
■when  he  knew  that  she  had  been  in  company 
with  other  pious  people.  In  this  way  he  had 
acted,  ever  since  his  wife  had  been  of  different 
sentiments  to  himself.  But  now,  only  within 
the  last  few  days,  Freymulh  had  become  entire- 
ly changed,  and  that  in  the  following  manner:— 

Freymuth  took  his  departure  for  the  fair  at 
Frankfort.  During  this  time,  his  wife  was  en- 
tirely at  liberty  to  live  as  she  pleased ;  she  not 
only  went  to  visit  other  friends,  but  also  occa- 
sionally invited  a  considerable  number  of  them 
to  her  house  ;  this  she  did,  also,  last  Easter  fair. 
Once,  when  many  of  them  were  assembled  in 
Freymuth's  house  on  a  Sunday  evening,  and 
were  reading,  praying,  and  singing  together,  it 
pleased  the  mub  not  "to  suffer  this;  they  came, 
and  first  of  all  broke  all  the  windows  within 
their  reach,  and  as  the  house-door  was  fastened, 
they  bust  it  open  with  a  strong  pole.  The  com- 
pany in  the  parlour  were  alarmed  and  terrified, 
and  every  one  sought  to  hide  himself  as  well  as 
he  could.  Madame  Freymuth  alone  remained; 
and  on  hearing  the  house-door  broken  open,  she 
stepped  out  with  a  light  in  her  hand.  Several 
of  the  mob  had  already  burst  in,  whom  she  met 
in  the  hall.  She  smiled  at  the  people,  and  said 
good-humouredly,  "Neighbours  !  what  is  it  you 
want?"  Immediately  it  seemed  as  though  they 
had  received  a  beating,  they  looked  at  each  oth- 
er, were  ashamed,  and  went  quietly  home  again. 
The  next  morning,  Madame  Freymuth  sent  for 
the  glazier  and  carpenter,  in  order  to  restore  ev- 
ery thing  to  its  proper  state ;  this  was  done,  and 
scarcely  was  all  finished  when  her  husband  re- 
turned from  the  fair. 

He  immediately  observed  the  new  windows, 
and  therefore  asked  his  wife  how  it  had  hap- 
pened 1  She  told  him  the  pure  truth,  circum- 
stantially, and  concealed  nothing  from  him;  but 
6ighed  at  the  same  time,  in  her  mind,  to  God  for 
assistance ;  for  she  expected  nothing  else  but 
that  she  would  be  dreadfully  beaten.  Freymuth, 
however,  did  not  think  of  that;  but  was  mad  at 
the  outrage  of  the  mob.  His  intention  was  to 
take  cruel  revenge  upon  the  villains,  as  he  called 
them;  he  therefore  commanded  his  wife,  with 
threats,  to  tell  him  who  they  were  that  had  com- 
mitted the  outrage,  for  she  had  seen  and  recog- 
nized them. 

"Yes,  dear  husband,"  said  she,  "I  will  tell 
thee ;  but  I  know  a  still  greater  sinner  than  they 
all  together;  for  there  was  one  who  for  the  very 
same  reason  beat  me  most  dreadfully." 

Freymuth  did  not  understand  this  as  it  was 
meant;  he  flew  into  a  passion,  beat  upon  his 

breast,  and  roared  out,  "May  the  d   fetch 

him  and  thee  too,  if  thou  dost  not  this  moment 
tell  me  who  it  was."  "Yes,"  answered  Ma- 
dame Freymuth,  "I  will  tell  thee;  revenge  thyself 
upon  him  as  much  as  thou  wilt;  thou  art  the  man 
that  did  it,  and  art  therefore  worse  than  the  peo- 
ple who  only  broke  the  windows."  Freymuth 
was  mute,  and  stood  as  if  struck  by  lightning; 
he  was  silent  awhile:  at  length  he  began,  "God 
in  heaven,  thou  art  in  the  right !  I  have  certainly 


been  a  real  villain  !  I  am  wishing  to  revenge  my- 
self on  people  who  are  better  than  I !  Yes,  wife  I 
I  am  the  most  wicked  wretch  upon  earth !"  He 
jumped  up,  ran  up  stairs  to  his  bed-room,  lay 
there  three  days  and  three  nights,  flat  upon  the 
ground,  ate  nothing,  and  only  occasionally  took 
something  to  drink.  His  wife  kept  him  com- 
pany as  much  as  she  could,  and  helped  him  in 
prayer,  that  he  might  obtain  favour  with  God, 
through  the  Redeemer. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  he  rose  with 
his  mind  at  ease,  praised  God,  and  said,  "  I  am 
now  assured  that  my  grievous  sins  are  forgiven 
me!"  From  that  moment  he  has  been  quite 
another  man,  as  humble  as  he  was  proud  before, 
as  meek  as  he  had  been  previously  wrathful  and 
daring,  and  as  heartily  pious  as  he  had  before 
been  impious. 

This  man  would  have  been  a  subject  for  my 
friend  Lavater.  The  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance was  the  maddest  and  wildest  in  the  world; 
it  needed  only  a  single  passion — for  instance, 
anger — to  be  excited,  and  the  animal  spirits  re- 
quired only  to  extend  every  muscle  of  his  face, 
and  he  would  have  appeared  raging  mad.  But 
now  he  is  like  a  lion  turned  into  a  lamb.  Peace 
and  serenity  are  impressed  upon  every  muscle 
of  his  countenance,  and  this  gives  him  an  aspect 
as  pious  as  it  was  previously  brutal. 

After  supper,  Glöckner  sent  his  servant  to 
Freymuth's  house,  to  say  that  friends  had  ar- 
rived to  visit  him.  Freymuth  and  his  wife  came 
immediately,  and  welcomed  Isaac  and  Stilling. 
The  latter  made  his  observations,  all  the  even- 
ing, upon  the  two  people,  and  at  one  time  ad- 
mired the  meekness  of  the  lion,  and  at  another 
the  courage  of  the  lamb.  All  the  six  were  very 
happy  together,  edified  each  other  as  well  as 
they  were  able,  and  went  late  to  bed. 

Our  -two  friends  continued  a  couple  of  days 
longer  at  Rothenbeck,  visiting  and  receiving 
visits.  The  schoolmaster  there,  who  was  also 
a  Stilling,  and  from  the  province  of  Salen,  be- 
longed likewise  to  the  society  of  the  pious  at 
Rothenbeck ;  him  they  visited  also.  He  became 
particularly  fond  of  Stilling,  especially  on  hear- 
ing that  he  had  been  a  long  time  schoolmaster. 
The  two  Stillings  made  a  covenant  with  each 
other,  that  one  should  write  to  the  other  as  long 
as  they  lived,  in  order  to  maintain  the  friendship 
then  formed. 

At  length  they  travelled  back  again  from 
Rothenbeck  to  Waldstatt,  and  betook  themselves 
to  their  occupation,  during  which  they  passed 
their  time  in  all  kinds  of  pleasing  conversation. 

There  dwelt,  about  a  league  from  Waldstatt, 
a  considerable  merchant,  of  the  name  of  Span- 
ier. This  man  had  seven  children,  of  whom  the 
eldest  was  a  daughter  of  about  sixteen,  and  the 
youngest  a  girl  of  a  year  old.  There  were  in 
all,  three  sons  and  four  daughters.  He  had  a 
very  large  iron-foundry,  which  consisted  of  sev- 
en forges,  of  which  four  were  near  his  house, 
and  three  lay  at  the  distance  of  a  league  and  a 
half,  not  far  from  Mr.  Hochberg's  house,  where 
Stilling  had  formerly  resided.  He  possessed, 
besides,  a  great  many  estates,  houses,  gardsns, 
and  all  that  belongs  to  them,  together  with  a 
number  of  domestics,  footmen,  servants,  and 
grooms;  for  he  had  several  horses  for  his  own  use. 

When  Mr.  Spanier  had  collected  together  suf- 
ficient employment  for  the  tailor,  he  sent  for  Mr. 
Isaac  with  his  journeyman  to  work  for  some 
days  at  his  house,  in  order  to  repair  his  own  and 
his  people's  clothes. 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


After  Stilling  had  been  twelve  weeks  with  Mr. 
Isaac,  it  happened  that  they  were  sent  for  to  work 
at  Mr.  Spanier's.  They  went  thither  early  in 
the  morning.  On  entering  the  room-door,  Mr. 
Spanier  was  sitting  alone  at  the  table,  drinking 
coffee  out  of  a  little  pot  that  had  been  filled  for 
him  alone.  He  turned  himself  slowly  about, 
looked  Stilling  in  the  face,  and  said,  "Good 
morning,  Mr.  Tutor." 

Stilling  blushed  deeply,  and  knew  not  what  to 
say ;  however,  he  soon  recovered  himself,  and 
said,  "  Your  servant,  Mr.  Spanier."  The  latter 
remained  silent,  and  continued  to  drink  his  cof- 
fee.   But  Stilling  betook  himself  to  his  work. 

Some  hours  afterwards,  Mr.  Spanier  walked 
tip  and  down  the  room,  but  without  speaking  a 
word;  at  length  he  stood  still  before  Stilling, 
looked  at  him  awhile,  and  said, 

"You  succeed  as  well  in  that,  Stilling,  as  if 
you  had  been  born  to  be  a  tailor;  but  that  you 
are  not." 

"  How  so  %"  asked  Stilling. 

"For  this  very  reason,"  rejoined  Spanier; 
"  because  I  will  have  you  for  tutor  to  my  chil- 
dren." 

Mr.  Isaac  looked  at  Stilling,  and  smiled. 

"No,  Mr.  Spanier!"  replied  Stilling;  "that 
will  not  be  the  case.  I  have  irrevocably  deter- 
mined to  teach  no  more.  I  am  now  quiet  and 
comfortable  at  my  trade,  and  I  will  not  depart 
from  it." 

Mr.  Spanier  shook  his  head,  laughed,  and 
continued,  "I  will  teach  you  something  differ- 
ent to  that;  I  have  levelled  so  many  a  mount- 
ain in  the  world,  that  if  I  were  unable  to  bring 
you  to  another  way  of  thinking,  I  should  be 
ashamod  of  myself." 

He  said  nothing  more  upon  the  subject  that 
day;  but  Stilling  entreated  nis  master  to  let  him 
go  home  the  same  evening,  in  order  to  escape 
Mr.  Spanier's  snares.  However,  Mr.  Isaac 
would  not  permit  it;  Stilling,  therefore,  armed 
himself  in  the  best  manner,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  resist  Mr.  »Spanier  with  the  most  weighty  ar- 
guments. 

The  next  day  it  again  happened  that  Mr.  Span- 
ier walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  began  to 
speak  to  Stilling  as  follows: — 

"  Hear  me,  Stilling.  If  I  were  t»  let  a  fine 
coat  be  made  for  me,  and  then  hang  it  upon  a 
nail,  without  ever  putting  it  on — should  I  not  be 
thought  a  fool?' 

"Yes,"  replied  Stilling;  "first,  if  you  needed 
it,  and,  secondly,  if  it  fitted  well.  But  supposing 
you  let  such  a  coat  be  made  without  requiring 
it,  or  if  you  put  it  on,  and  found  it  was  every 
where  too  tight  for  you,  what  would  you  do  then?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  would  do  with  it,"  an- 
swered Spanier;  "I  would  give  it  to  some  one 
else,  whom  it  fitted." 

"But,"  rejoined  Stilling,  "if  you  had  given 
it  to  seven,  and  each  of  them  returned  it  to  you, 
and  said,  'It  does  not  fit  me,'  how  would  you 
then  act?' 

Spanier  replied,  "I  should  still  be  a  fool  if  I 
suffered  it  to  hang  up  for  the  moths  to  devour;  I 
would  give  it  to  the  eighth,  and  say, 1  Alter  it  till 
it  fits  you.'  But  supposing  the  eighth  was  per- 
fectly willing  to  take  the  coat  as  it  was,  and  not 
to  require  more  of  it  than  it  was  made  for,  I 
should  be  committing  a  sin  if  I  did  not  give  it  to 
him!" 

"You  are  in  the  right  there,"  rejoined  Stilling; 
"however,  notwithstanding  all  this,  I  entreat 
you,  Mr.  Soanier  *br  God's  sake,  leave  me  at 
my  trade." 


"No,"  answered  he,  "that  I  will  not;  you 
shall  and  must  become  my  domestic  tutor,  and 
that  on  the  following  tCrms :  You  are  unac- 
quainted with  the  French  language,  but  with  me 
it  is  necessary,  for  many  reasons,  that  you  un- 
derstand it;  therefore  look  out  for  a  language- 
master  wherever  you  please;  remove  to  him, 
and  learn  the  language;  I  will  gladly  pay  what- 
ever it  may  cost.  Further,  I  give  you,  notwith- 
standing, full  liberty  to  return  to  Mr.  Isaac  as 
soon  as  you  are  tired  of  living  with  me;  and 
finally,  you  shall  have  all  that  you  need  as  to 
clothing,  &c,  as  long  as  you  continue  with  me. 
But  then  I  have  also  a  right,  on  the  contrary,  to 
demand  this  of  you — that  you  will  not  enter  upon 
any  other  situation,  as  long  as  I  require  you,  un- 
less it  be  to  provide  yourself  for  life." 

Mr.  Isaac  was  touched  with  this  proposal. 
"Now,"  said  he  to  Stilling,  "you  will  commit  a 
sin,  if  you  do  not  consent.  This  comes  from 
God,  and  all  your  previous  engagements  from 
yourself." 

Stilling  examined  himself  closely,  and  found 
within  him  no  passion  or  ambitious  feeling,  but 
felt,  on  the  contrary,  a  hint  in  his  conscience, 
that  this  situation  was  pointed  out  to  him  by  God. 

After  a  short  pause,  he  began:  "Yes,  Mr. 
Spanier,  I  will  venture  upon  it  once  more,  but  I 
do  it  with  fear  and  trembling." 

Mr.  Spanier  rose  up,  gave  him  his  hand,  and 
said,  "  God  be  thanked!  I  have  now  made  this 
mountain  into  a  plain.  But  you  must  immedi- 
ately betake  yourself  to  a  language-master;  the 
sooner  the  better." 

Stilling  was  quite  willing  to  do  so,  and  even 
Mr.  Isaac  said,  "The  day  after  to-morrow  is 
Sunday;  you  may  then  set  off  in  God's  name." 
This  was  therefore  agreed  upon. 

I  must  confess/now  that  Stilling  is  again  be- 
come another  man,  that  however  happy  he  ima- 
gined himself  to  be,  he  had  still  a  discordant 
string,  which  he  never  dared  to  touch.  As  soon 
as  it  occurred  to  him,  what  he  had  read  and  at- 
tained to  in  the  mathematics  and  other  sciences, 
his  heart  was  pained ;  however,  he  expelled  it 
from  his  mind  again ;  hence  he  felt  very  different 
on  being  conscious  that  he  was  about  to  enter 
into  his  proper  element. 

Although  Isaac  was  pleased  at  his  good  for- 
tune, yet  it  grieved  him  much  that  he  was  so 
soon  to  part  with  him;  and  it  pained  Stiiling  to 
the  soul,  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  leave  of  the 
most  upright  man  in  the  world,  and  the  best 
friend  he  ever  had,  before  he  was  able  to  repay 
him  for  his  clothes  by  his  earnings;  on  this  ac- 
count, he  secretly  spoke  with  Mr.  Spanier,  and 
told  him  what  Mr.  Isaac  had  done  for  him.  The 
tears  came  into  Mr.  Spanier's  eyes,  and  he  said, 
"Excellent  man!  I  will  reward  him;  he  shall 
never  want  !"  He  then  gave  Stilling  some 
louis-d'ors,  with  the  intimation  to  pay  Isaac 
with  part,  and  economize  with  the  remainder; 
when  it  was  expended,  he  should  have  more, 
only  he  must  give  a  proper  account  how  he  had 
spent  it. 

Stilling  rejoiced  above  measure;  he  had  nev- 
er yet  met  with  such  a  man.  He  therefore  paid 
Mr.  Isaac  with  the  money;  and  the  latter  then 
confessed  that  he  had  really  borrowed  the  money 
for  all  the  clothes.  This  went  to  Stilling's 
heart;  he  could  not  refrain  from  weeping,  and 
thought  within  himself,  if  ever  a  man  deserved  a 
marble  monument,  this  man  does — not  for  hav- 
ing made  whole  nations  happy,  but  because  he 
would  have  done  so  if  he  could. 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


Once  more !  Blessed  be  thy  ashes,  my  friend ! 
who  wast  one  of  a  thousand,  where  tfiou  liest 
and  sleepest;  these  sacred  tears  bedew  thy  grave, 
■thou  true  follower  of  Christ! 

Stilling,  therefore,  took  leave,  on  Sunday,  of 
his  friends  at  Waldstatt,  and  proceeded  by  way 
of  Rasenheim  to  Schönenthal,  in  order  to  seek  a 
good  language-master.  On  approaching  that 
place,  he  recollected  that  a  year  and  some  weeks 
before,  he  had  first  travelled  that  road;  he  re- 
volved in  his  mind  all  that  had  befallen  him  in 
that  short  period,  and  then  again,  his  present 
condition  ;  he  fell  down  upon  his  knees,  and 
thanked  God  heartily  for  his  severe  but  sacred 
guidance,  at  the  same  time  beseeching  Him  to 
cause  the  sunshine  of  his  favor  to  beam  upon 
him.  On  ascending  the  eminence,  from  whence 
he  could  survey  all  Schönenthal,  and  the  extent 
of  the  beautiful  valley,  he  felt  poetically  inspired, 
sat  down  under  the  bushes,  drew  out  his  tablets, 
and  wrote : 

"  I  feel  a  soft  emotion  flow, 

A  peace  celestial  and  profound  ; 
While  pure  delights  within  me  glow, 

And  cooling  breezes  breathe  around. 
The  clouds  along  the  placid  sky, 
Fringed  with  light,  serenely  fly. 

11  The  rushing  of  the  distant  rill 

Floats  hither,  as  on  gentle  wings  : 
I  listen  ! — all  beside  is  still. 

Save  where  the  lark  aspiring  sings, 
Or,  warbling  from  some  secret  nook, 
Joins  with  the  murmurs  of  the  brook. 

"  Now,  joyfully,  my  eyes  L  raise 

To  every  well-known  lofty  hill ; 
Then  downwards  on  my  path  I  gaze, 

And  my  appointed  course  fulfil; 
For  ever  from  my  breast  expel 
The  foul,  tormenting  fiend  of  hell. 

"  Once  more  I  look,  with  feelings  bold, 

Down,  into  sorrow's  gloomy  vale, 
And  with  a  placid  eye  behold 

The  place  where  heart  and  flesh  did  fail. 
I  hear  a  dreadful  ocean  roar, 
And  waves  terrific  lash  the  shore. 

"  Like  some  pale  ghost,  which  feebly  roams 
Through  halls  and  mansions  lone  and  drear, 
Or  sadly  flitting  o"er  the  tombs, 

Fills  the  night-wanderer  with  fear, 
While  laboring  hard  a  word  to  say, 
Which  might  its  suffering  state  convey — 

"  So  did  I  totter  on  the  brink 

Of  the  dread  gulf  of  black  despair  ; 
And  every  moment  saw  me  sink 

Deeper  into  the  infernal  snare. 
Loudly  below  the  dragons  growl'd, 
While  high  above  black  thunders  roll'd. 
"  I  went,  and  saw,  with  sad  dismay, 

Angels  of  death  around  me  wait ; 
While  forked  lightnings  mark'd  the  way ; 

Until  I  'spied  a  little  gate— 
J  hasten'd  through,  in  spite  of  foes, 
And  found  the  end  of  all  my  woes. 
"  Onwards  I  crept,  in  silent  shade  : 

It  still  was  twilight  all  around  ; 
I  felt  my  powers  and  senses  fade, 

Arid  bent  in  weakness  towards  the  ground  ; 
Fainting,  I  felt  my  eyelids  close, 
Ami  sank,  unconscious  of  my  woes. 
"I  sank  as  when  on  friendship's  breast 

Some  deadly-wounded  warrior  falls, 
While  sursfic  aid,  with  influence  bless'd, 

The  ebbing  tide  of  life  recalls  ; 
I  was  revived,  refresh'd,  restored, 
And  through  my  frame  new  strength  was  pour'd. 
"  In  Isaac's  hospitable  dome 

I  tasted  pure  and  sweet  repose  ; 
'Twas  there  I  found  a  blissful  home, 

There  s  >ngs  of  thankfulness  arose  ; 
To  God  wo  chanted  hymns  of  praise, 
The  Author  of  our  happy  days." 

Stilling  now  hastened  down  the  hill  to  Schön- 
enthal; he  ascertained,  however,  that  the  lan- 


guage-masters there  would  not  suit  his  purpose, 
because,  on  account  of  their  being  much  occupied 
in  going  from  one  kouse  to  another,  they  would 
have  little  time  to  spare  for  him.  As  he  was  in 
haste,  and  would  gladly  accomplish  his  object 
soon,  he  was  obliged  to  seek  an  opportunity 
where  he  could  learn  much  in  a  little  time.  At 
length  he  heard  that  a  very  able  language-mas- 
ter resided  at  Dornfeld,  where  Mr.  Dahlheim 
was  the  minister;  and  as  this  place  was  only 
three  quarters  of  a  league  from  Schönenthal,  he 
the  more  readily  determined  to  go  thither. 

He  arrived  at  Dörnfeld  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  He  immediately  inquired  for  the 
language-master,  went  to  him,  and  found  a  very 
strange,  original  man,  whose  name  was  Hees- 
feld. He  was  sitting  in  a  dark  room ;  he  had  on 
a  dirty  morning-gown  of  coarse  camblet,  girded 
about  him  with  a  band  of  the  same  stuff;  on  his 
head  was  a  cap  with  flaps  to  it;  his  visage  was 
as  pale  as  that  of  a  man  who  had  been  some 
days  in  the  grave,  and,  compared  with  the 
breadth,  much  too  long.  His  forehead  was 
beautiful ;  but  beneath  a  couple  of  jet-black  eye- 
brows, lay  two  small  black  eyes  deep  in  the 
head ;  his  nose  was  small  and  long,  his  mouth 
regular,  but  his  chin  was  flat,  and  projected 
far  forwards,  and  his  extremely  black  hair  was 
curled  round  about ;  in  other  respects,  he  was 
thin,  tall,  and  well-made. 

Stilling  was  in  some  measure  startled  at  his 
singular  countenance;  however,  he  showed  no 
symptoms  of  it,  but  saluted  him,  and  stated  his 
intention.  Mr.  Heesfeld  received  him  in  a 
friendly  manner,  and  said,  "  I  will  do  what  I  can 
for  you."  Stilling  next  looked  out  for  a  lodging, 
and  commenced  his  study  of  the  French"  lan- 
guage, which  he  did  in  the  following  manner. 
In  the  forenoon,  from  eight  till  eleven  o'clock, 
he  attended  the  regular  school,  as  also  in  the  af- 
ternoon, from  two  to  five.  He  sat,  however,  at 
the  same  table  with  Heesfeld,  conversing  and 
passing  the  time  with  him;  but  when  the  school 
was  over  they  took  a  walk  together. 

Strange  as  Heesfeld  was  in  his  appearance, 
he  was  just  as  peculiar  in  his  life  and  conversa- 
tion. He  belonged  to  the  class  of  the  Splenetics, 
as  did  Gräser  also;  for  he  never  told  any  one 
what  he  thought ;  no  one  knew  whence  he  was, 
and  they  were  equally  ignorant  whether  he  was 
poor  or  rich.  Perhaps  he  never  loved  any  one 
in  his  life  more  tenderly  than  Stilling;  and  yet 
the  latter  only  ascertained  after  his  death  whence 
he  came,  and  that  he  had  been  a  rich  man. 

His  peculiar  mode  of  thinking  appeared  also 
from  his  always  concealing  his  abilities,  and 
only  letting  so  much  of  them  be  perceived  as 
was  necessary.  It  was  every  day  manifest  that 
he  understood  French  perfectly ;  but  that  he  was 
also  an  excellent  Latin  scholar  was  only  first  ap- 
parent when  Stilling  came  to  him,  with  whom 
he  commenced  his  instruction  on  the  principles 
of  the,,  Latin  grammar,  and  daily  made  Latin 
verses  with  him,  which  were  incomparably  beau- 
tiful. He  understood  drawing,  dancing,  physic, 
and  chemistry,  in  a  hi^h  degree;  and  only  two 
days  before  Sailing's  departure,  it  happened  that 
the  latter  was  playing  on  the  harpsichord  in  his 
company,  and  Heesfeld  was  listening.  When 
Stilling  ceased,  he  sat  down  to  it;  and  acted,  at 
first,  as  if  he  h:ul  never  touched  an  instrument 
in  his  life;  but  in  less  than  five  minutes  he  be- 
gan a  voluntary,  so  sweetly  and  dreadfully  mel- 
ancholy, that  it  was  enough  to  make  a  man's 
hair  stand  on  end.    In  short,  he  showed  himself 


66  HEINRICH 

a  complete  master  of  the  art,  and  knew  how  to 
touch  every  responding  chord  in  the  human 
frame  in  such  a  manner,  that  Stilling  was  ready 
to  melt  at  his  affecting  mode  of  playing,  and  ad- 
mired the  man  beyond  measure. 

Heesfeld,  in  his  youth,  had  entered  into  the 
military  service.  On  account  of  his  abilities,  he 
was  taken  by  an  officer  of  high  rank  into  his 
particular  service,  who  had  him  instructed  in 
every  thing  he  desired.  He  travelled  through 
the  world  with  this  gentleman,  who,  twenty 
years  afterwards,  died,  and  left  him  a  handsome 
sum.  Heesfeld,  at  that  time,  was  forty  years 
old;  he  returned  home — not,  however,  to  his 
parents  and  friends — but  took  the  name  of  an- 
other family,  went  to  Dörnfeld  as  French  lan- 
guage-master, and  although  his  parents  and  his 
two  brothers  lived  only  two  leagues  from  him, 
yet  they  knew  nothing  of  him,  but  believed  he 
had  died  in  a  foreign  land.  On  his  deathbed, 
however,  he  made  himself  known  to  his  broth- 
ers, stated  his  circumstances  to  them,  and  left 
them  a  rich  inheritance ;  which,  according  to  his 
system,  was  then  quite  early  enough. 

Now  whether  this  be  termed  a  failing  or  a 
virtue,  he  had,  with  all  this,  a  noble  soul.  His 
philanthropy  had  risen  to  a  great  height,  but 
he  acted  in  secret;  even  those  to  whom  he  did 
good  were  not  permitted  to  know  it.  Nothing 
delighted  him  more,  than  to  hear  that  people  did 
not  know  what  to  make  of  him. 

When  he  went  out  to  walk  with  Stilling,  they 
conversed  together  upon  the  arts  and  sciences. 
Their  path  always  led  them  into  the  wildest  sol- 
itudes. Heesfeld  then  ascended  some  waving 
tree,  which  would  bend  easily,  sat  down  in  the 
top,  held  fast  with  his  hands,  and  weighing  him- 
self down  with  it  to  the  ground,  then  laid  him- 
self a  while  in  the  branches,  reposing.  Stilling 
imitated  him,  and  thus  they  lay  and  chatted  to- 
gether; when  they  were  tired  of  this,  they  rose 
up,  and  the  trees  resumed  their  perpendicular 
position;  this  was  an  amusement  to  Heesfeld; 
he  was  wont  to  say,  "  How  beautiful  are  air- 
beds !  when  we  rise,  they  ascend  towards  heav- 
en." Sometimes  he  gave  a  person  an  enigma  to 
solve,  and  asked,  "  What  kind  of  beds  are  those, 
which  fly  up  into  the  air  when  one  rises  V 

Stilling  lived  very  happily  at  Dornfeld.  Mr. 
Spanier  sent  him  money  enough,  and  he  studied 
very  diligently,  for  he  had  finished  in  nine 
weeks.  It  is  incredible,  but  certainly  true ;  in 
two  months  he  understood  this  language  suffi- 
ciently; he  could  read  the  French  journals  in 
German,  as  if  they  had  been  printed  in  the  latter 
language;  he  was  also  already  able  to  write  a 
French  letter  without  a  grammatical  error,  and 
read  correctly ;  he  only  required  exercise  in 
speaking.  He  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
the  whole  of  the  syntax,  so  that  he  could  boldly 
begin  to  give  instructions  himself  in  the  lan- 
guage. 

Stilling  therefore  determined  to  take  leave  of 
Mr.  Heesfeld,  and  to  remove  to  his  new  patron. 
Both  wept  on  separating  from  each  other.  Hees- 
feld accompanied  him  the  distance  of  a  league; 
and  when  they  were  taking  leave  of  each  other, 
he  embraced  him,  and  said,  "My  friend,  if  you 
are  ever  in  want  of  any  thing,  write  to  me,  and 
1  will  do  to  you  what  one  brother  ought  to  do  to 
another.  My  life  is  a  hidden  one,  but  I  wish  to 
work  like  our  mother  nature;  her  sources  are 
not  seen,  but  the  individual  drinks  his  fill  at  her 
clear  brooks."  Stilling  felt  it  hard  to  part  from 
him ;  at  length  they  tore  themselves  from  each 


STILLING. 

other,  and  each  went  his  way,  without  once 

looking  behind  him. 


Stilling  therefore  returned  on  foot  to  Mr.  Span- 
iens, and  arrived  at  his  house  in  the  evening, 
two  days  before  Michaelmas,  1763.  Mr.  Span- 
ier rejoiced  not  a  little  on  seeing  Stilling  return 
so  soon.  He  immediately  treated  him  as  a 
friend;  and  Stilling  felt  convinced  that  he  was 
now  with  people  with  whom  he  could  be  happy. 

The  next  day,  he  began  his  tuition,  the  ar- 
rangement of  which  was  regulated  by  Spanier  ia 
the  following  manner.  The  children  and  their 
teacher  were  with  him  in  his  room;  he  could 
therefore  observe  and  direct  them  himself,  as 
well  as  speak  continually  with  Stilling  on  a  va- 
riety of  subjects.  At  the  same  time,  Mr.  Span- 
ier gave  his  family-preceptor  time  enough  to 
read  also  for  himself.  The  tuition  lasted  the 
whole  day ;  but  was  so  convenient  and  amusing, 
that  it  could  not  be  tedious  or  burthensome  to 
any  one. 

Mr.  Spanier,  however,  had  designed  that  Still- 
ing should  be  not  merely  the  tutor  of  his  chil- 
dren, but  he  had  also  another  favorable  inten- 
tion respecting  him  —  he  purposed  employing 
him  in  his  business ;  but  this  he  did  not  com- 
municate to  him  until  the  day  when  he  commit- 
ted a  part  of  his  iron-works  to  his  charge.  He 
thought,  by  so  doing,  to  make  an  agreeable 
change  in  Stilling's  situation,  and  to  preserve 
him  from  melancholy. 

All  this  was  attended  with  perfect  success. 
After  he  had  been  engaged  a  fortnight  in  teach- 
ing, Mr.  Spanier  transferred  to  his  care  his  three 
forges,  and  the  estates  which  lay  a  league  and  a 
half  from  his  house,  not  far  from  the  residence 
of  Mr.  Hochberg.  Stilling  had  to  go  thither 
every  three  days,  in  order  to  fetch  away  the  ar- 
ticles which  were  ready,  and  to  look  after  every 
thing. 

He  had  also  to  purchase  the  raw  material, 
and  to  go  for  this  purpose  to  the  distance  of  three 
leagues  on  the  high-road,  two  or  three  times 
every  week,  whither  the  carriers  came  with  the 
iron  ore,  in  order  to  buy  of  them  what  was  neces- 
sary. When  he  returned  much  fatigued,  a  few 
days'  rest  did  him  good ;  he  then  read  for  him- 
self, and  taught  at  the  same  time. 

But  the  pleasing  intercourse  which  Stilling 
had  with  Mr.  Spanier,  was  his  principal  enjoy- 
ment. They  were  very  intimate  together,  and 
conversed  cordially  on  all  sorts  of  subjects. 
Spanier  was,  in  particular,  an  able  and  excel- 
lent agriculturist  and  merchant ;  so  that  Stilling 
often  used  to  say,  "Mr.  Spanier's  house  was  my 
academy,  where  I  had  an  opportunity  of  study- 
ing farming,  agriculture,  and  commerce,  in  their 
very  essence." 

Stilling's  manner  of  life,  as  here  described, 
continued,  without  the  intervention  of  a  single 
gloomy  hour,  for  seven  whole  years  together;  I 
will  say  nothing  further  respecting  it,  than  that 
during  the  whole  of  this  time,  he  made  consider- 
able progress  in  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  in 
good  breeding,  and  the  above-mentioned  domes- 
tic sciences.  He  instructed  his  pupils,  during 
this  period,  in  the  Latin  and  French  languages, 
by  which  he  attained  to  still  greater  expertness 
in  both  ;  as  well  as  in  reading,  writing,  and  arith- 
metic ;  and  in  the  principles  of  the  reformed  re- 
ligion. 

His  own  reading  consisted,  in  the  beginning, 
of  a  variety  of  poetical  works.  He  first  read 
Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  then  Young's  Night 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


G7 


Thoughts,  and  afterwards  Klopstock's  Messias 
—three  books  which  truly  harmonized  with  his 
soul ;  for  as  he  had  been  previously  of  a  san- 
guine and  tender  temperament,  he  had  assumed, 
after  his  dreadful  sufferings  at  Mr.  Hochberg's, 
a  soft  and  tender  melancholy,  which  will  prob- 
ably adhere  to  him  till  his  death. 

He  did  not,  at  that  time,  do  much  more  in 
mathematics,  but  applied  himself,  on  the  con- 
trary, seriously  to  philosophy  ;  he  read  the  whole 
of  Wolf's  German  writings,  as  also  Gottsched's 
Compendium  of  Philosophy,  and  Leibnitz's  The- 
odicee.  He  demonstrated  the  whole  of  Bau- 
meister's  Minor  Logic  and  Metaphysics;  and 
nothing  was  more  agreeable  to  him  than  exer- 
cising himself  in  these  sciences;  but  still  he  felt 
a  void  within,  and  a  mistrust  of  these  systems; 
for  they  really  stifled  every  childlike  feeling  of 
the  heart  towards  God.  They  may  be  a  series 
of  truths;  but  we  do  not  yet  possess  the  true 
philosophical  chain,  to  which  all  things  are  ap- 
pended. Stilling  expected  to  find  this,  but  he 
found  it  not;  he  then  set  about  searching  further, 
partly  by  his  own  reflection,  and  partly  in  other 
writings;  but  hitherto  he  walks  mournfully  upon 
this  path,  because  he  sees  no  outlet. 

Mr.  Spanier  was  also  originally  from  the  prov- 
ince of  Salen,  for  his  father  was  born  not  far 
from  Kleefeld,  where  Stilling  had  kept  his  last 
parochial  school.  On  this  account,  he  had  oc- 
casionally business  in  that  place;  and  for  this 
he  made  use  of  Stilling  by  preference,  particu- 
larly because  he  was  known  there.  After  he 
had  been  a  year  with  his  patron,  and  consequent- 
ly nearly  two  years  and  a  half  away  from  home, 
he  began  his  first  journey,  on  foot,  to  his  native 
province.  He  had  twelve  leagues  to  travel  from 
Mr.  Spanier's  to  his  uncle  Johann  Stilling's,  and 
thirteen  to  his  father's.  This  journey  he  pur- 
posed accomplishing  in  one  day.  He  therefore 
set  off  early  in  the  morning,  at  daybreak,  and  i 
travelled  onwards  very  agreeably;  but  he  took! 
a  nearer  road  than  that  by  which  he  had  former- 
ly come.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  he 
gained  the  summit  of  a  hill  on  the  borders  of  the 
province  of  Salen,  from  whence  he  could  see  all 
the  well-known  heights;  his  heart  melted,  he  sat 
down,  shed  tears  of  sensibility,  and  thanked  God 
for  his  painful,  but  very  uncommon  guidance. 
He  reflected  how  poor  and  wretched  1  had 
gone  forth  from  his  native  province,  and  that 
now  he  had  money  in  abundance,  fine  clothes, 
and  all  that  he  needed.  This  softened  him  so 
much,  and  made  him  so  grateful  to  God,  that  he 
could  not  refrain  from  weeping. 

He  now  proceeded  on  his  journey,  and  arri- 
red  in  the  course  of  an  hour  at  his  uncle's  at 
Lichthausen.  The  joy  they  felt  oh  seeing  him 
was  unspeakable  ;  he  "was  grown  tall,  and  of  a 
good  figure;  had  on  a  fine  dark-blue  coat,  and 
fine  white  linen  ;  his  hair  was  powdered,  and 
rolled  up  round  about,  and  he  looked,  at  the  same 
time,  cheerful  and  blooming,  because  tltirgs 
went  well  with  him.  His  uncle  embraced  and 
kissed  him,  whilst  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 
Meanwhile  his  aunt,  Maria  Stilling,  came  also; 
she  had  been  married  since  his  departure,  and 
had  removed  to  Lichthausen ;  she  fell  upon  his 
neck,  and  kissed  him  repeatedly. 

He  remained  that  night  with  his  unrij;  the 
next  morning,  he  proceeded  to  Leindorf  to  his 
father's.  How  the  worthy  man  jumped  up,  on 
seeing  him  come  so  unexpectedly  !  but  he  sank 
back  "again,  whilst  Stilling  ran  towards  him,  em- 
braced and  kissed  him.  Wilhelm  held  his  hands 


before  his  eyes,  and  wept ;  his  son  likewise  shed 
tears.  The  mother  then  came  also,  shook  him 
by  the  hand,  and  wept  aloud  for  joy,  on  seeing 
him  again  in  health. 

Stilling  now  related  to  his  parents  all  that  had 
happened  to  him,  and  how  comfortably  situated 
he  was  at  present.  Meanwhile,  the  report  of 
Stilling's  arrival  spread  itself  through  the  whole 
village.  The  house  was  filled  with  people;  old 
and  young  came  to  see  their  former  schoolmas- 
ter, and  the  village  was  full  of  joy  on  his  account. 

Towards  evening,  Wilhelm  took  his  son  with 
him  to  walk  in  the  fields.  He  spoke  much  with 
him  on  his  past  and  future  fate,  just  in  the  man- 
ner of  old  Stilling;  so  that  his  son  was  penetra- 
ted with  reverence.  At  length  Wilhelm  said, 
"  Hear  me.  my  son :  thou  must  visit  thy  grand- 
mother; she  suffers  much  from  the  rheumatism, 
and  will  not  live  much  longer.  She  very  oftea 
speaks  of  thee,  and  wishes  to  converse  with  thee 
once  more  before  her  end."  The  next  morning, 
therefore,  Stilling  rose,  and  went  to  Tiefenbacb. 
How  he  felt,  when  he  saw  the  old  castle,  der 
hitzige  Stein,  the  Giller,  and  the  village  itself! 
His  sensations  were  inexpressible ;  he  com- 
menced a  self-examination,  and  found,  that  if  he 
were  able,  he  would  gladly  exchange  his  present 
state  for  that  of  his  youth.  He  arrived  in  a  short 
time  at  the  village;  all  the  people  ran  out,  so 
that  he  came,  as  it  were,  in  a  crowd,  to  the  ven- 
erable house  of  his  fathers.  He  felt  a  thrill  per- 
vade him  as  he  entered,  just  as  if  he  had  been 
crossing  the  threshold  of  some  ancient  temple. 
His  aunt  Elizabeth  was  in  the  kitchen;  she  ran 
to  him,  gave  him  her  hand,  and  led  him  joyfully 
into  the  parlour;  there  lay  his  grandmother, 
Margaret  Stilling,  in  a  neat  little  bed  by  the 
wall,  near  the  stove;  her  chest  was  drawn  up- 
wards, the  joints  in  her  hands  were  swollen,  and 
her  fingers  stiff  and  turned  inwards.  Stilling 
ran  to  her,  took  hold  of  her  hand,  and  said,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  "  How  are  you,  my  dear  grand- 
mother'? It  rejoices  my  soul  to  see  you  again.'* 
She  strove  to  raise  herself  up,  but  sank  power- 
less back  again.  "Ah!"  cried  she,  "I  can  still 
hear  and  feel  thee,  before  my  end.  Come  nearer 
to  me,  that  I  may  feel  thy  face  !"  Stilling  bent 
himself  towards  her;  she  felt  his  forehead,,  his 
eyes,  nose,  and  mouth,  his  chin  and  cheeks..  In 
doing  this,  her  stiff  fingers  came  in  contact  with, 
Iiis  hair,  and  she  felt  the  powder.  "  Soj"  said 
she,  "thou  art  the  first  of  our  family  that  has 
worn  powder;  but  be  not  the  first  to  forget  in- 
tegrity and  the  fear  of  God!  Now,"  continued 
she,  "  I  can  form  an  idea  of  thee,  as  though  I 
saw  thee ;  tell  me  how  it  has  fared  with  thee, 
and  how  it  now  goes  with  thee."  Stilling  re- 
lated every  thing  briefly  and  pointedly.  When 
he  had  finished,  she  began  as  follows:  "Lis- 
ten to  me,  Heinrich  !  Be  humble  and  devout, 
and  it  will  go  well  with  thee;  never  be  ashamed 
of  thy  descent,  and  thy  poor  friends,  however 
great  thou  mayest  be  in  the  world.  He  that  is 
low  may  become  great  by  humility,  and  he  that 
is  high  may  become  low  by  pride  ;*when  I  an» 
once  dead,  it  is  all  one  what  I  have  been  in  the 
world,  if  I  have  oniyiived  as  a  Christian." 

Stilling  was  obliged  solemnly  to  promise  this, 
both  by  word,  and  by  giving  her  his  hand;  and 
after  he  had  conversed  with  her  for  some  time 
longer,  he  took  a  hasty  leave  of  her.  His  heart 
pained  him,  for  he  knew  that  he  should  not  see 
her  again  in  this  life.  She  was  on  the  borders  , 
of  the  grave;  but  she  took  him  by  the  hand,  hel«t- 
him  fast,  and  said,  "Thou  art  in  haste— God  be 


68 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


with  thee,  my  child !  I  shall  see  thee  again  be- 
fore the  throne  of  God!"  He  pressed  her  hand 
and  wept.  She  perceived  it,  and  continued, 
"No!  weep  not  over  me!  it  is  well  with  me. 
I  heartily  commend  thee  into  the  fatherly  hands 
of  God ;  may  He  bless  thee,  and  preserve  thee 
from  all  evil !  Now  go,  in  God's  name ! '  Still- 
ing tore  himself  loose,  hurried  out  of  the  house, 
and  has  never  returned  thither  since.  Some 
days  after,  died  Margaret  Stilling;  she  lies  bu- 
ried at  Fiorenburgh  with  her  husband. 

Stilling  now  fell  as  if  he  had  no  longer  any 
attachment  to  his  native  province ;  he  took  leave 
of  his  relatives,  hastened  his  departure,  and  ar- 
rived again  at  Mr.  Spanier's  after  an  absence  of 
five  days. 


I  will  not  expatiate  upon  Stilling  uniform 
mode  of  life  and  occupations,  during  the  first  four 
years;  but  pass  over  to  more  important  mat- 
ters. He  had  now  been  for  a  considerable  time 
employed  in  tuition,  and  Mr.  Spainer's  affairs; 
his  years  increased,  and  the  idea  began  to  occur 
to  him,  what  would  at  length  become  of  him  1 
There  was  now  a  complete  end  to  his  trade;  he 
had  not  attempted  it  for  some  years,  and  the  tui- 
tion of  children  was  also  disagreeable  to  him  ; 
he  was  heartily  tired  of  it,  and  he  felt  that  he  was 
not  formed  for  il,  for  he  was  of  a  busy  and  active 
turn  of  mind.  A  mercantile  life  also  did  not 
please  him,  for  he  was  very  conscious  that  he 
would  be  unfit  for  continual  occupation  with 
such  things,  and  this  vocation  was  opposed  to 
his  inward  impulse;  he  was,  however,  neither 
disturbed  nor  melancholy,  but  waited  to  see  what 
the  Lord  intended  concerning  him. 

One  mornin?  in  the  spring  of  the  year  17G8,  he 
was  sitting  at  the  table  after  breakfast,  whilst  the 
children  were  running  about  in  the  court  for  a 
little  while;  he  stretched  out  his  hand  behind 
him  for  a  book,  and  caught  hold  of  "  Reitz's 
History  of  the  Regenerate."  He  turned  it 
over  a  little,  without  intention  or  reflection; 
when  the  history  of  a  man  met  his  eye,  who  had 
travelled  into  Greece,  in  order  to  search  after 
the  remains  of  the  first  Christian  churches  there. 
He  read  the  narrative  solely  to  pass  the  time. 
When  he  came,  in  the  course  of  reading,  to  the 
place  where  the  man,  on  his  deathbed,  testified 
the  great  pleasure  he  still  took  in  the  Greek  lan- 
guage, and  particularly,  what  a  pleasing  feeling 
he  had  at  the  word  Eilikrineia — it  seemed  to 
Stilling  as  if  he  were  awaking  out  of  a  profound 
sleep.  The  word  Eilikrineia  stood  before  him, 
as  if  surrounded  with  radiance;  he  felt,  at  the 
same  time,  an  irresistible  impulse  to  learn  the 
Greek  language,  and  a  strong  and  latent  attrac- 
tion to  something  with  which  he  was  still  unac- 
quainted, nor  could  he  tell  what  it  was.  He 
recollected  himself,  and  thought,  "  What  shall  I 
do  with  the  Greek  language'?  What  an  im- 
mense labor  would  it  be  for  me  to  learn  so  diffi- 
cult a  language,  which  I  cannot  even  read,  in 
my  twenty-eighth  year!"  However,  all  the  ob- 
jections of  reason  were  entirely  fruitless ;  his  im- 
pulse towards  it  was  so  great,  and  his  inclina- 
tion so  powerful,  that  the  time  seemed  tedious  to 
him  before  he  could  commence  it.  He  mention- 
ed rll  this  to  Mr.  Spanier;  the  latter  reflected  a 
little,  and  at  length  he  said,  "  If  vou  mu-l  learn 
Greek,  learn  it!"  Stilling  immediately  prepared 
to  set  out;  and  went  to  WakNtait,  to  a  certain 
ftxcell^nt  theologian,  who  was  a  good  friend  of 
his,  and  to  whom  he  made  known  his  intentions. 
The  good  man  was  much  pleased,  gave  him  en- 


couragement, and  even  recommended  him  to 
study  divinity;  however,  Stilling  felt  no  incli- 
nation to  the  latter,  and  his  friend  was  also  sat- 
isfied with  his  sentiments;  but  advised  him  to 
pay  close  attention  to  the  Divine  guidance,  and 
as  "soon  as  he  was  conscious  of  it,  to  follow  it 
implicitly.  He  then  gave  him  the  books  neces- 
sary for  learning  the  Greek  language,  and  wish- 
ed him  the  Divine  blessing.  From  thence  he 
went  likewise  to  the  preachers,  and  mentioned 
his  purpose  to  them;  they  were  also  in  favor  of 
it,  particularly  Mr.  Seelburg,  who  promised  him 
every  assistance  and  necessary  instruction,  for 
he  came  to  Mr.  Spaniel's  house  twice  every 
week. 

Stilling  now  began  to  learn  Greek.  He  ap- 
plied himself  to  it  with  all  his  powers,  and  troub- 
led himself  little  about  the  scholastic  mode  of  in- 
struction ;  but  sought  only  to  penetrate,  with  his 
understanding,  into  the  genius  of  the  language, 
in  order  rightly  to  understand  what  he  read.  In 
short,  in  five  weeks,  he  translated  the  first  five 
chapters  of  the  gospel  of  Matthew  into  the  Latin 
language,  without  making  a  fault,  and  at  the 
same  time,  analyzed  every  word.  The  Rev. 
Mr.  Seelburg  was  astonished,  and  knew  not 
what  to  say;  this  worthy  man  instructed  him 
only  in  the  pronunciation,  and  this  he  caught 
very  rapidly.  On  this  occasion,  he  also  attempt- 
ed the  Hebrew;  and  in  a  short  time  made  such 
progress  in  it,  that  he  could  proceed  with  the 
help  of  a  lexicon  ;  Mr.  Seelburg  did  his  best  for 
him  in  this  also. 

Whilst  he  thus  occupied  himself  with  aston- 
ishing industry  and  labour  in  these  languages, 
Mr.  Spanier  continued  entirely  silent  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  let  him  do  as  he  pleased  :  no  one  knew 
how  the  matter  would  end;  and  he  himself  did 
not  know  it,  but  the  majority  believed  that  he 
would  become  a  preacher. 

At  length,  the  whole  affair  developed  itself  all 
at  once.  One  afternoon  in  June,  Mr.  Spanier 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  as  he  was  wont 
when  reflecting  upon  some  important  affair, 
whilst  Stilling  was  engaged  with  his  languages 
and  tuition.  At  length  Mr.  Spanier  began: 
"Preceptor!  it  all  at  once  occurs  to  me  what 
you  ought  to  do;  you  must  study  medicine." 

I  cannot  express  how  Stilling  felt  at  this  prop 
osition ;  he  could  scarcely  keep  on  his  feet,  s6 
that  Mr.  Spanier,  being  alarmed,  seized  hold  of 
him,  and  said,  "What  is  the  matter  with  youT 
"O  Mr.  Spanier,"  replied  Stilling,  "what  shall 
I  say— what  shall  I  think'?  I  am  certain  that  is 
my  vocation.  Yes,  T  feel  in  my  soul,  that  this 
is  the  great  object  which  has  been  so  long  hid- 
den from  me,  which  1  have  so  long  sought,  and 
been  unable  to  find  !  For  this  my  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther has  been  so  long  designing  to  prepare  me, 
by  severe  and  painful  trials,  from  my  youth  up. 
Blessed  be  the  merciful  God,  that  has  at  length 
made  known  to  me  his  will!  I  will  boldly  fol- 
low his  guidance." 

On  this,  he  ran  up  to  his  bed-room,  fell  upon 
his  knees,  thanked  God,  and  besought  the  Fa- 
ther of  men  to  lead  him  the  shortest  way  to  the 
attainment  of  his  object.  He  reflected  upon  all 
the  way  in  which  Providence  had  led  him,  and 
now  clearlv  perceived  why  he  had  enjoyed  such 
a  peculiar  education ;  why  he  had  been  o'  liged 
to  learn  the  Latin  language  so  early;  the  reason 
of  his  innate  impulse  for  the  mathematics,  and 
the  knowledge  of  the  occult  powers  of  nature; 
why  he  had  leen  renrlerrd  pliant  and  fir,  bv  his 
many  sufferings,  to  serve  his  fellow-creatures; 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS 


why,  for  some  time  past,  his  inclination  to  phi- 
losophy had  so  much  increased,  as  to  impel  him 
to  study  logic  and  metaphysics ;  and,  lastly,  why 
he  had  felt  such  an  inclination  for  the  Greek 
language.  He  now  knew  his  destiny ;  and  from 
that  hour,  he  determined  to  study  for  himself, 
and  to  collect  materials,  until  it  should  please 
God  to  send  him  to  the  university. 

Mr.  Spanier  now  gave  him  permission  to  take 
a  few  hours  in  the  evening  for  himself,  and  did 
not  employ  him  any  longer  so  much  in  his  busi- 
ness, in  order  that  he  might  have  time  to  study. 
Stilling  applied  himself  with  all  his  powers  to 
the  languages,  and  began  to  make  himself  ac- 
quainted with  anatomy,  from  books.  He  read 
Kriiger's  System  of  Nature,  and  made  all  that 
he  read  his  own  ;  he  sought  also  to  form  a  plan 
for  himself  with  regard  to  the  prosecution  of  his 
.studies,  in  which  he  was  assisted  by  some  emi- 
nent physicians,  with  whom  he  corresponded. 
In  one  word,  he  went  through  all  the  discipline 
of  the  art  of  medicine  for  himself,  as  much  as 
was  possible  at  the  time,  in  order  that  he  might 
at  least  obtain  a  general  idea  of  all  its  parts. 

This  important  news  he  immediately  commu- 
nicated to  his  father  and  uncle.  His  father  re- 
plied to  this,  that  he  resigned  him  entirely  to  the 
guidance  of  God  ;  he  must  not,  however,  hope  for 
any  assistance  on  his  part,  and  be  careful  not  to 
plunge  himself  into  a  new  labyrinth.  But  his 
mother  was  quite  displeased  at  him;  and  believ- 
ed to  a  certainty,  that  he  was  actuated  only  by  a 
Jove  of  novelty,  which  would  assuredly  turn  out 
ill.  Stilling  did  not  let  this  disturb  him  in  the 
least,  but  cheerfully  prosecuted  his  studies,  leav- 
ing it  to  the  paternal  providence  of  God  to  pro- 
vide the  means. 

The  following  spring,  when  he  had  already- 
studied  a  year,  his  master's  business  again  obli- 
ged him  to  travel  into  the  province  of  Salen. 
This  delighted  him  uncommonly;  for  he  hoped 
the  better  to  convince  his  friends,  by  word  of 
mouth,  that  it  was  really  the  will  of  God  respect- 
ing him  that  he  should  study  medicine.  He  set 
off,  therefore,  early  in  the  morning,  and  arrived 
in  the  afternoon  at  his  uncle's  at  Lichthausen. 
This  worthy  man,  immediately  after  welcoming 
him,  began  to  dispute  with  him  respecting  his  new 
plan.  The  whole  question  was,  "  Where  shall 
the  large  sum  come  from  that  is  requisite  for 
such  an  extensive  and  expensive  study  3"  Still- 
ing always  answered  with  his  motto,  "Jehovah 
Jireth"  (the  Lord  will  provide). 

The  next  morning,  he  went  to  his  father's, 
who  had  also  his  apprehensions,  and  feared  he 
might  surfer  shipwreck  in  the  important  under- 
taking; however,  he  did  not  dispute  with  him, 
but  left  him  to  his  fate. 

After  he  had  finished  his  business,  he  went 
again  to  his  father's,  took  leave  of  him,  and  af- 
terwards proceeded  to  his  uncle's;  but  the  latter 
had  entirely  changed  his  mind,  within  a  few 
days.  Stilling  was  astonished  at  it,  but  still 
more  so  when  he  heard  the  reason  of  it.  "  Yes," 
said  Johann  Stilling,  "you  must  study  medicine ; 
I  now  know  that  it  is  the  will  of  God." 

In  order  to  comprehend  this  matter  in  its  ori- 
gin, I  must  make  a  little  digression,  which  has 
reference  to  Johann  Stilling.  He  was  acquaint- 
ed, before  he  became  land-measurer,  with  a  sin- 
gular man,  a  Catholic  priest,  who  was  a  very 
able  oculist,  and  celebrated  far  and  near.  Now 
Johann  Sailing's  wife  had  very  sore  eyes,  for 
which  reason  her  husband  went  to  Molitor,  to 
fetch  something  for  them.    The  priest  soon  ob- 


served that  Johann  had  an  intelligent  mind,  and 
he  therefore  encouraged  him  to  apply  himself 
diligently  to  geometry.  Molitor's  intentions  to- 
wards him  were  kind;  he  had  the  prospect  of 
becoming  steward  to  a  very  rich  and  honorable 
baronet,  and  this  employment  he  preferred  to  his 
clerical  office.  This  baronet  was  a  great  admi- 
rer of  geometry,  and  desirous  of  having  plans 
made  of  all  his  estate.  This  was  what  Molitor 
designed  for  Johann  Stilling,  and  the  plan  suc- 
ceeded admirably.  As  long  as  the  old  baronet 
lived,  Molitor,  Johann  Stilling,  and  sometimes 
Wilhelm  Stilling,  were  supported  by  him ;  but 
when  the  latter  died,  Molitor  was  dismissed,  and 
there  was  also  an  end  to  the  land-measuring. 

Molitor,  in  his  old  age,  was  made  vicar  in  a 
little  town  which  lies  four  leagues  to  the  north 
of  Lichthausen.  His  principal  occupation  con- 
sisted in  chemical  operations,  and  cures  of  the 
eyes,  in  which  he  was  still  the  most  celebrated 
man  in  that  part  of  the  country. 

Just  at  the  time  that  Heinrich  Stilling  was 
about  his  master's  business  in  the  province  of 
Salen,  old  Mr.  Molitor  wrote  to  Johann  Stilling, 
informing  him  that  he  had  most  faithfully  and 
circumstantially  copied  out  all  his  ophthalmic 
arcana,  both  with  respect  to  their  application 
and  preparation,  as  also  an  explanation  of  the 
principal  diseases  of  the  eye,  with  the  method 
of  cure.  Now,  as  he  was  old  and  near  his  end, 
he  wished  to  see  this  valuable  manuscript  in 
good  hands  —  and  in  consideration  of  the  firm 
and  intimate  friendship  that  had  uninterruptedly 
subsisted  between  ihem,  notwithstanding  their 
difference  of  religion,  he  requested  him,  as  a 
friend,  to  inform  him,  whether  there  was  not 
some  worthy  individual  in  his  family  who  had 
a  desire  to  study  the  art  of  medicine;  that  if 
there  were,  he  might  be  sent  to  him;  and  pro- 
fessed himself  ready  to  commit  the  manuscript 
to  him,  together  with  other  valuable  medicinal 
matters,  immediately  and  gratuitously,  with  the 
sole  condition,  that  he  must  pledge  himself  to 
benefit  poor  sufferers  with  it  at  all  times  without 
any  charge.  But  it  ought  to  be  some  one  who 
intended  to  study  medicine,  in  order  that  the 
things  might  not  fall  into  a  bungler's  hands. 

This  letter  had  entirely  changed  Johann  Still- 
ing's  mind  with  respect  to  his  nephew.  That  he 
should  just  arrive  at  that  period,  and  that  Mr. 
Molitor  should  fall  upon  this  idea  at  the  very 
time  when  his  nephew  intended  to  study  medi- 
cine, seemed  to  him  a  most  convincing  proof 
that  God  had  his  hand  in  the  matter;  he  there- 
fore said  to  Stilling,  "Read  this  letter,  nephew? 
I  have  nothing  more  to  object  to  your  plan.  I 
see  it  is  the  finger  of  God!" 

Johann  Stilling  therefore  immediately  wrote 
a  very  friendly  and  grateful  letter  to  Mr.  Moli- 
tor, and  most  warmly  recommended  his  nephew 
to  him.  With  this  letter  Stilling  walked  the 
next  morning  to  the  little  town  where  Molitor 
lived.  On  arriving  there,  he  inquired  for  the 
gentleman,  and  was  shown  a  pretty  little  house. 
Stilling  rang  lhe  bell,  and  an  aged  female  open- 
ed the  door  to  him,  and  asked  who  he  was.  He 
answered,  "My  name  is  Stilling,  and  I  wish  to 
speak  with  the  "clergyman."  She  went  up-stairs, 
and  the  old  man  himself  came  down,  welcomed 
his  visitor,  and  led  him  up  into  his  little  cabi- 
net. Here  he  presented  his  letter.  After  Moli- 
tor had  read  it,  he  embraced  Stilling,  and  inqui- 
red into  his  circumstances  and  intentions.  The 
latter  continued  with  him  the  whole  day,  looked 
at  his  pretty  laboratory,  his  convenient  surgery, 


70  HEINRICH 

and  his  little  library.  "  All  this,"  said  Mr.  Mo- 
litor,  "  I  will  leave  you  in  my  will,  before  I  die." 
Thus  they  spent  the  day  very  pleasantly  together. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Molitor  delivered  up 
the  manuscript  to  Stilling,  with  the  condition, 
however,  that  he  should  transcribe  it,  and  return 
him  the  original.  Molitor,  on  the  other  hand, 
solemnly  pledged  himself  that  he  would  give  it 
to  no  one  else,  but  would  conceal  it,  so  that  no 
body  should  be  able  to  find  it  again.  Besides 
this,  the  worthy  old  man  had  laid  aside  several 
books,  which  he  promised  to  send  Stilling  forth- 
with; the  latter,  however,  packed  them  up  in 
his  portmanteau,  took  them  upon  his  back,  and 
set  out.  Molitor  accompanied  him  beyond  the 
gates;  he  then  looked  up  to  heaven,  took  Still- 
ing by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  The  Lord,  the  Holy 
One,  the  Omnipresent,  make  you,  by  his  Holy 
Spirit,  the  best  of  men,  the  best  of  Christians, 
and  the  best  of  doctors !"  On  which  they  kissed 
each  other,  and  parted. 

Stilling  shed  tears  at  this  separation,  and 
thanked  God  for  this  excellent  fri'end.  He  had 
to  travel  ten  leagues  to  Mr.  Spanier's;  this  he 
accomplished  the  same  day,  and  arrived  at  home 
in  the  evening,  heavily  laden  with  books.  He 
related  the  recent  occurrence  to  his  patron,  who 
admired  with  him  the  singular  leadings  and  gui- 
dance of  Cod. 

Stilling  now  set  himself  to  the  work  of  trans- 
cribing the  manuscript;  and  notwithstanding  his 
other  business,  he  finished  it  in  four  weeks.  He 
therefore  packed  up  a  pound  of  good  tea,  a  pound 
of  sugar,  and  some  other  things,  in  his  portman- 
teau, together  with  the  two  manuscripts,  and  set 
off  again  early  one  morning,  to  visit  his  friend 
Molitor,  and  return  him  his  manuscript.  He 
arrived  in  the  afternoon,  rang  at  the  door  of  the 
house,  waited  a  little,  and  then  rang  again;  but 
no  one  opened  to  him.  A  woman  who  was 
standing  at  the  door  of  a  house  opposite,  asked 
him  whom  he  wanted.  Stilling  answered,  "  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Molitor."  The  woman  said,  "  He  has 
been  in  eternity  above  a  week  I"  Stilling  was  so 
struck,  that  he  turned  pale;  he  went  to  an  inn, 
where  he  inquired  into  the  circumstances  of  Mo- 
litor's  death,  and  who  was  executor  to  his  will. 
He  there  heard  that  he  had  died  suddenly  of  an 
apopletic  fit,  and  that  no  will  had  been  found. 
Stilling  therefore  turned  about  with  his  portman- 
teau, and  went  back  four  leagues,  where  he  spent 
the  night  at  a  little  town,  with  a  good  friend  of 
his,  so  that  he  was  at  home  again  early  the  next 
day.  He  could  not  refrain  from  weeping  the 
whale  of  the  way,  and  would  gladly  have  wept 
on  Molitor's  grave,  had  not  the  entrance  to  his 
tomb  been  closed. 

As  soon  as  he  came  home,  he  began  to  prepare 
Mr.  Molitor's  medicines.  Now  Mr.  Spanier  had 
a  man-servant,  whose  son,  a  lad  of  twelve  years 
of  age,  had  for  a  long  time  had  very  sore  eyes. 
Stilling  made  his  first  attempt  upon  this  boy. 
which  succeeded  admirably,  so  that  he  was  cured 
in  a  short  time ;  hence  he  soon  came  into  regular 
practice,  so  that  he  had  much  to  do ;  and  towards 
autumn,  the  fame  of  his  cures  extended  itself 
for  leagues  round,  even  as  far  as  Schönenlhal. 

Mr.  Isaac,  the  tailor  of  Waldstatt,  saw  his 
friend's  progress  and  success,  and  rejoiced  heart- 
ily over  him;  nay,  he  swam  in  pleasure,  in  an- 
ticipation of  eventually  visiting  Doctor  Stilling, 
and  delighting  himself  with  him.  But  God  drew 
a  stroke  through  this  calculation,  for  Mr.  Isaac 
fell  ill.  Stilling  visited  him  constantly,  and  uer- 
ceived  with  sorrow  his  approaching  end.  The 


STILLING. 

day  before  his  decease,  Stilling  was  sitting  at  his 
friend's  bed-side;  Isaac  raised  himself  up,  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Friend  Stilling,  I 
shall  die,  and  leave  behind  me  a  wife  and  lour 
children  ;  I  am  not  anxious  about  their  mainte- 
nance, for  the  Lord  will  provide  for  them;  but 
whether  they  will  walk  in  the  Lord's  ways  or 
not,  I  know  not,  and  therefore  I  commit  the  over- 
sight of  them  to  you ;  assist  them,  in  word  and 
deed;  the  Lord  will  reward  you."  Stilling  cor- 
dially promised  to  do  so,  as  long  as  he  could 
possibly  take  charge  of  them.  Isaac  continued, 
"  When  you  remove  from  Mr.  Spanier's,  I  ab- 
solve you  from  your  promise.  But  now  I  beg 
of  you  always  to  remember  me  with  affection, 
and  live  in  such  a  manner  that  we  may  be  eter- 
nally united  in  heaven."  Stilling  shed  tears,  and 
said,  "Pray  for  grace  and  strength  for  me." 
"Yes."  said  Isaac,  "that  I  will  do,  when  I  have 
finished  my  course;  I  have  now  enough  to  do 
wilh  myself."  Stilling  did  not  suppose  his  end 
was  so  very  near;  he  there/ore  went  away,  and 
promised  to  come  again  the  next  day;  however, 
he  died  the  same  night.  Stilling  acted  as  chief 
mourner  at  his  funeral,  because  he  had  no  rela- 
tions ;  he  wept  over  his  grave,  and  lamented  him 
as  a  brother.  His  wife  died  not  long  after  him ; 
but  his  children  are  all  well  provided  for. 

After  Stilling  had  been  nearly  six  years  in 
Mr.  Spanier's  service,  during  which  he  contin- 
ued to  practise  as  an  oculist,  it  occasionally  hap- 
pened that  his  master  spoke  with  him  concern- 
ing a  convenient  place  for  the  regulation  of  his 
studies.  Mr.  Spanier  proposed  to  him  to  con- 
tinue some  years  longer  with  him.  and  to  study 
for  himself;  he  would  then  give  him  a  couple  of 
hundred  rix-dollars,  that  he  might  be  able  to 
travel  to  a  university,  pass  the  usual  examina- 
tion, and  take  his  degree;  and  in  the  course  of 
a  quarter  of  a  year,  return,  and  continue  to  re- 
side with  Mr.  Spanier.  What  further  intentions 
he  had  respecting  him,  I  know  not. 

Stilling  was  quite  satisfied  with  this  plan  at 
one  time,  but  not  at  another.  His  object  at  the 
university  was  to  study  medicine  thoroughly; 
and  he  did  not  doubt  but  that  God,  who  had  call- 
ed him  to  it,  would  put  ways  and  means  into  his 
hands  to  enable  him  to  accomplish  it.  But  Mr. 
Spanier  was  not  satisfied  with  this,  and,  there- 
fore, they  were  both  at  length  entirely  silent  on 
the  subject.  * 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  1769,  when  Stilling 
had  just  entered  his  thirtieth  year,  and  had  been 
six  years  with  Mr.  Spanier,  he  received  a  letter 
from  a  merchant  at  Rasenheim,  a  league  on  this 
side  of  Schönentha!,  whose  name  was  Frieden- 
bersr,  in  which  the  latter  requested  him  to  come 
to  Rasenheim  as  soon  as  possible,  because  one 
of  his  neighbours  had  a  son  who  had  been  troub- 
led for  some  years  with  sore  eyes,  and  was  in 
danger  of  becoming  blind.  Mr.  Spanier  urged 
him  to  go  immediately ;  he,  therefore,  did  so, 
and  after  a  three  hours'  walk,  arrived  in  the 
forenoon  at  Mr.  Friedenberg's,  at  Rasenheim. 
This  man  dwelt  in  a  neat  and  beautiful  house, 
which  he  had  had  built  for  him  a  short  time  be- 
fore. The  part  of  the  country  where  he  dwelt 
was  extremely  agreeable.  When  Stilling  enter- 
ed the  house,  and  perceived  that  order,  cleanli- 
ness, and  neatness  without  magnificence  pre- 
vailed in  every  part  of  it,  he  was  pleased,  and 
felt  that  he  could  live  there.  But  on  entering 
the  parlour,  and  seeing  Mr.  Friedenberg  him- 
self, with  his  consort,  and  nine  handsome  well- 
made  children,  who  presented  themselves,  one 


SELLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


71 


after  the  other,  in  neat  and  elegant,  but  not  ex- 
pensive clothing,  every  face  beaming  with  truth, 
integrity,  and  cheerfulness — he  was  quite  in  ec- 
stasy, and  wished  in  reality  to  dwell  for  ever 
with  these  people.  There  was  no  bustle  nor 
hurry  to  be  seen,  but  an  efficient  activity,  the  re- 
sult of  harmony  and  good-will. 

Mr.  Frieden  berg,  in  a  friendly  manner,  offer- 
ed him  his  hand,  and  invited  him  to  dinner. 
Stilling  accepted  the  offer  with  pleasure.  On 
conversing  with  these  people,  he  immediately 
perceived  an  inexpressible  harmony  of  spirit ; 
all  of  them  immediately  became  fond  of  Stilling, 
and  he  also  loved  them  all  exceedingly.  His 
conversation  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Friedenberg 
was  entirely  upon  religion  and  true  godliness, 
which  was  the  chief  and  sole  concern  of  these 
people. 

After  dinner,  Mr.  Friedenberg  accompanied 
him  to  the  patient,  whom  he  attended  to,  and 
then  went  back  with  his  friend  to  drink  coffee. 
In  a  word,  these  three  spirits,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Friedenberg  and  Stilling,  united  firmly  together, 
and  became  intimate  friends,  without  venturing 
to  express  it.  In  the  evening,  the  latter  returned 
to  his  place;  but  after  this  visit,  he  felt,  in  some 
measure,  a  void ;  he  had  never  met  with  such  a 
family  since  the  days  of  his  youth,  and  would 
gladly  have  resided  nearer  Mr.  Friedenberg,  in 
order  to  associate  more  with  him  and  his  family. 

Meanwhile,  the  patient  at  Rasenheim  began  to 
recover,  and  there  were  several  in  that  part,  and 
even  in  Schönenthal  itself,  who  desired  his  aid; 
he,  therefore,  resolved,  with  the  consent  of  Mr. 
Spanier,  to  go  every  fortnight,  on  the  Saturday 
afternoon,  to  visit  his  patients,  and  return  on  the 
Monday  morning.  He  arranged  it  so,  that  he 
arrived  on  the  Saturday  evening  at  Mr.  Frieden- 
berg's,  then  went  about  on  the  Sunday  morning 
visiting  his  patients,  even  as  far  as  Schönenthal, 
ana  returned  back  to  Rasenheim  on  the  Sunday 
evening,  from  whence  he  went  home  again  on 
the  Monday  morning.  Through  these  repeated 
vi;  its,  his  intimate  connexion  with  Mr.  Fried- 
enberg and  his  family  became  more  and  more 
strengthened ;  he  acquired  also  a  pleasing  ac- 
quaintance with  many  pious  people  in  Schönen- 
thal, who  alternately  invited  him  on  Sundays  to 
dine  with  them,  and.  conversed  with  him  on  re- 
ligion and  other  good  subjects. 

Things  continued  thus  until  the  February  of 
the  following  year,  1770,  when  Mrs.  Frieden- 
berg was  delivered  of  a  daughter.  Mr.  Frieden- 
berg not  only  informed  Stilling  of  this  pleasing 
event,  but  even  requested  him  to  stand  sponsor, 
the  following  Friday,  at  the  christening  of  his* 
child.  This  caused  Stilling  extreme  pleasure. 
Mr.  Spanier,  however,  could  not  comprehend 
how  a  merchant  should  come  to  ask  the  clerk  of 
another  merchant  to  be  godfather  to  his  child ; 
but  Stilling  was  not  astonished  at  it,  for  Mr. 
Friedenberg  and  he  no  longer  knew  of  any  dif- 
ference of  rank — they  were  brothers. 

Stilling,  therefore,  went,  at  the  time  appoint- 
ed, to  assist  at  the  baptism.  Now  Mr.  Frieden- 
berg had  a  daughter,  who  was  the  eldest  of  his 
children,  and  about  that  time  in  her  twenty-first 
year.  This  young  lady  had  loved  quietness  and 
retirement  from  her  youth,  and  she  was,  there- 
fore, reserved  towards  all  strangers,  particular- 
ly when  they  were  better  dressed  than  she  was 
accustomed  to.  Although  this  circumstance,  as 
it  regarded  Stilling,  was  not  an  obstacle,  yet  she 
avoided  him  as  much  as  she  could,  so  that  he  j 
saw  her  very  seldom.    Her  whole  occupation,  t 


from  her  youth  up,  had  consisted  in  those  do- 
mestic employments  which  were  suited  to  her 
sphere  of  life,  and  the  necessary  instruction  of 
the  Christian  religion  according  to  the  evangel- 
ical Lutheran  confession,  together  with  reading 
and  writing;  in  a  word,  she  was  a  pretty,  agree- 
able young  girl,  who  had  never  mixed  with  the 
world,  so  as  to  be  able  to  live  according  to  the 
fashion,  but  whose  good  disposition  richly  rec- 
ompensed for  the  want  of  all  these  insignificant 
trifles  in  the  estimation  of  a  man  of  integrity. 

Stilling  had  not  particularly  remarked  this 
young  lady  in  preference  to  the  other  children  of 
his  friend;  he  felt  within  him  no  impulse  to  do 
so,  nor  did  he  venture  to  think  of  such  a  thing, 
because  it  was  necessary,  previously,  that  obsta- 
cles of  a  stupendous  kind  should  be  removed  out 
of  the  way. 

This  amiable  girl  was  called  Christina ;  she 
had  been  for  some  time  very  ill,  and  all  the  phy- 
sicians doubted  of  her  recovery.  Now  when 
Stilling  came  to  Rasenheim,  he  inquired  after 
her,  as  the  daughter  of  his  friend ;  but  as  no  one 
gave  him  an  opportunity  of  visiting  her  in  her 
apartment,  he  did  not  think  of  it. 

That  evening,  however,  after  the  christening 
was  over,  Mr.  Friedenberg  filled  his  long  pipe, 
and  said  to  the  new  sponsor,  "  Will  it  afford  you. 
pleasure  for  once  to  visit  my  sick  daughter!  I 
wish  to  know  what  you  will  say  of  her.  You 
have  already  more  knowledge  of  diseases  than 
many."  Stilling  consented,  and  they  went  up- 
stairs into  the  invalid's  chamber.  She  lay  in 
bed,  weak  and  poorly ;  yet  still  she  had  much 
cheerfulness  of  spirit.  She  raised  herself  up, 
gave  Stilling  her  hand,  and  asked  him  to  sit 
down.  Both  sat  down,  therefore,  at  the  table, 
near  the  bed.  Christina  did  not  now  feel  asha- 
med in  the  presence  of  Stilling,  but  conversed 
with  him  on  a  variety  of  religious  topics.  She 
became  very  cheerful  and  sociable.  She  was 
often  subject  to  attacks  of  a  serious  nature;  so 
that  some  one  was  obliged  to  sit  up  with  her  all 
night ;  another  reason  for  which  was,  because 
she  could  not  sleep  much.  When  they  had  sat 
awhile  with  her,  and  were  about  to  leave  her, 
the  sick  damsel  requested  her  father's  permission 
for  Stilling  to  sit  up  with  her  that  night,  along 
with  her  elder  brother.  Mr.  Friedenberg  will- 
ingly consented,  but  with  the  condition  that 
Stilling  had  no  objection  to  it.  The  latter  was 
glad  to  show  this  piece  of  friendship  to  the  pa- 
tient as  well  as  to  the  family.  He  betook  him- 
self, therefore,  in  the  evening,  with  the  eldest  son, 
about  nine  o'clock,  to  her  chamber;  they  both 
sat  down  at  the  table  near  the  bed,  and  spoke 
with  her  on  a  variety  of  subjects  in  order  to  pass 
the  time  ;  they  also  read  aloud  to  her  at  intervals. 

About  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  invalid 
requested  her  two  companions  to  be  quiet  a  little 
while,  as  she  thought  she  should  be  able  to  sleep. 
Accordingly  they  were  so.  Young  Mr.  Fried- 
enberg, meanwhile,  stole  down  stairs,  in  order 
to  prepare  some  coffee;  but  continuing  absent 
some  time,  Stilling  began  to  nod  in  his  chair. 
About  an  hour  after,  the  patient  again  began  to 
move.  Stilling  drew  the  curtains  a  little  asun- 
der, and  asked  her  how  she  had  slept?  She  an- 
swered, "  I  have  lain  in  a  kind  of  stupor.  1  will 
tell  you  something,  Mr.  Stilling!  I  have  receiv- 
ed a  very  lively  impression  On  my  mind,  respect- 
ing a  subject  which,  however,  I  must  not  men- 
tion to  you  till  another  time.-"'  At  these  words, 
Stilling' was  powerfully  struck;  he  felt  from 
head  to  foot  a  trepidation  he  had  never  before 


72  HEINRICH 

experienced,  and  all  at  once  a  beam  of  light  pen- 1 
etrated  through  his  soul  like  lightning.  It  was 
evident  to  his  mind,  what  the  will  of  God  was, 
and  what  the  words  of  the  sick  maiden  signified. 
With  tears  ii>  his  eyes  he  arose,  bent  over  the 
bed,  and  said,  "  I  know,  dear  miss,  what  impres- 
sion you  have  received,  and  what  the  will  of  God 
is."  She  raised  herself  up,  stretched  out  her 
hand,  and  replied,  "  Do  you  know  it  V  Stilling 
put  his  right  hand  into  hers,  and  said,  "  May 
God  in  heaven  bless  us ;  we  are  eternally  uni- 
ted !"»  She  answered,  "  Yes !  eternally  so  !" 

Her  brother  now  came  and  brought  the  coffee, 
placed  it  upon  the  table,  and  all  three  partook  of 
it.  The  invalid  was  quite  as  tranquil  as  before ; 
she  was  neither  more  joyful  nor  more  sorrowful 
— just  as  if  nothing  particular  had  happened. 
But  Stilling  was  like  one  intoxicated;  he'  knew 
not  whether  he  was  waking  or  dreaming;  he 
could  neither  think  nor  reflect  upon  this  un- 
heard-of event.  However,  he  felt  in  his  soul  an 
indescribably  tender  inclination  towards  the  dear 
invalid,  so  that  he  could  joyfully  have  sacrificed 
his  life  for  her,  if  it  had  been  requisite;  and  this 
pure  flame  was  as  if,  without  being  kindled,  a 
fire  had  fallen  from  heaven  upon  his  heart ;  for 
certainly,  his  Christina  had,  at  that  time,  neither 
charms,  nor  the  will  to  charm;  and  he  himself 
was  in  such  a  situation  that  he  shuddered  at 
the  thought  of  marrying.  But  as  aforesaid,  he 
was  stupified,  and  could  not  reflect  upon  his  sit- 
uation until  the  following  morning,  while  he 
was  returning  home.  He  previously  took  a 
tender  leave  of  Christina,  on  which  occasion  he 
expressed  his  fears;  but  she  was  quite  confident 
in  the  matter,  and  added,  "God  has  certainly 
commenced  this  affair,  and  he  will  as  certainly 
finish  it!" 

On  the  way,  Stilling  began  to  reflect  upon  his 
situation,  and  the  whole  affair  appeared  dread- 
ful to  him.  He  was  convinced  that  Mr.  Span- 
ier, as  soon  as  he  was  made  acquainted  with 
the  step  he  had  taken,  would  immediately  with- 
draw his  assistance  from  him  and  dismiss  him; 
consequently  he  would  be  out  of  bread,  and  be 
placed  in  his  former  circumstances.  Besides 
this,  he  could  not  possibly  imagine  that  Mr. 
Friedenberg  would  be  pleased  with  him ;  for  to 
betroth  himself  with  his  daughter  while  in  a 
situation  in  which  he  was  unable  to  maintain 
himself,  much  less  support  a  wife  and  children 
—nay,  even  while  requiring  a  large  sum  him- 
self—this was  in  reality  a  miserable  return  for 
his  friendship;  it  might  rather  be  looked  upon 
as  a  dreadful  abuse  of  it.  These  reflections 
caused  Stilling  heartfelt  anxiety,  and  he  feared 
being  placed  in  still  more  difficult  circumstances 
than  he  had  ever  experienced  before.  He  felt 
like  one  who  has  climbed  up  a  high  rock  by  the 
sea-side,  and  cannot  come  down  again  without 
the  danger  of  being  dashed  to  pieces;  but  ven- 
tures, and  leaps  into  the  sea,  in  the  hope  of  sav- 
ing himself  by  swimming. 

Stilling  knew  not  what  to  do;  he  cast  himself 
with  his  Christina  into  the  arms  of  the  paternal 
providence  of  God,  and  was  then  tranquil ;  but  he 
resolved,  notwithstanding,  to  mention  nothing  of 
this  event,  either  to  Mr.  Spanier  or  to  any  one  else. 

Mr.  Friedenberg  had  given  Stilling  permis- 
sion to  consign  to  him  all  the  medicines  for  his 
patients  in  that  part  of  the  country,  to  be  for- 
warded to  them  ;  he  therefore  sent  off  a  packet 
of  physic  to  him  on  the  following  Saturday, 
which  was  eight  days  after  his  betrothment,  and 
this  he  accompanied  by  a  letter,  which  flowed 


STILLING. 

entirely  from  his  heart,  and  which  pretty  clearly- 
revealed  what  was  passing  in  it;  nay,  what  was 
still  more,  he  even  inclosed  in  it  a  sealed  letter 
to  Christina ;  and  he  did  all  this  without  consid- 
ering or  reflecting  what  might  result  from  it ;  but 
when  the  packet  was  despatched,  he  began  to 
consider  what  the  consequences  might  be.  His 
heart  beat,  and  he  could  scarcely  contain  him- 
self. 

Never  had  he  found  a  journey  more  laborious 
than  his  customary  one  to  Rasenheim,  which  he 
took  the  week  following,  on  the  Saturday  even- 
ing. The  nearer  he  came  to  the  house,  the  more 
his  heart  palpitated.  He  entered  the  parlour: 
Christina  had  recovered  a  little;  she  was  there,, 
with  her  parents,  and  some  of  the  children.  He 
went  up  to  Mr.  Friedenberg  with  his  usual 
pleasant  look,  gave  him  his  hand,  and  the  latter 
received  him  with  his  wonted  friendship,  as  did 
also  Mrs.  Friedenberg,  and  last  of  all,  Christina. 
Stilling  then  left  the  room,  and  went  into  his 
bed-chamber,  in  order  to  lay  down  a  few  things 
he  had  with  him.  His  heart  was  already  light- 
er; for  his  friend  had  either  perceived  nothing, 
or  else  was  satisfied  with  the  whole  affair.  He 
now  went  down  again,  expecting  what  further 
would  take  place.  On  arriving  at  the  bottom  of 
the  stairs,  Christina,  who  was  standing  at  the 
door  of  a  room  opposite  the  palour,  beckoned  to 
him  to  enter;  she  closed  the  door  after  him,  and 
both  sat  down  together.  Christina  then  began  : 
"Oh  how  much  you  terrified  me  by  your  letter! 
my  parents  know  all.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you 
every  thing  as  it  occurred.  When  the  letters 
came,  I  was  in  the  parlour  with  my  father,  but 
my  mother  was  on  the  bed  in  her  chamber.  My 
father  broke  open  the  letter;  he  found  another  in 
it  for  me,  and  handed  it  to  me,  with  the  words, 
'  There  is  also  a  letter  for  thee.'  I  blushed,  took 
it,  and  read  it.  My  father  also  read  his,  some- 
times shook  his  head,  stood,  considered,  and  then 
read  further.  At  length,  he  went  into  the  cham- 
ber to  my  mother;  I  could  hear  all  that  was 
said.  My  father  read  the  letter  to  her.  When 
he  had  finished,  my  mother  laughed,  and  said, 
1  Dost  thou  understand  what  the  letter  means  ? 
he  has  a  mind  to  our  daughter.'  My  father  an- 
swered, 'That  is  not  possible;  he  was  only  one 
night  with  her,  with  my  son ;  besides  which,  she. 
is  ill ;  and  yet  the  letter  seems  to  me  to  imply 
something  of  the  kind.'  'Yes,  yes,'  said  my 
mother;  'do  not  think  otherwise;  it  is  so.'  My 
father  then  went  out,  and  said  nothing  more. 
My  mother  immediately  called  out  to  me,  and, 
said,  'Come,  Christina,  lie  down  a  little  by  me; 
thou  art  certainly  weary  of  sitting.'  I  went  to 
her,  and  lay  down  by  her.  '  Hear  me,'  she  be- 
gan; 'has  our  friend  Stilling  an  inclination  for 
thee  V  I  boldly  said,  '  Yes,  he  has.'  She  con- 
tinued, 'You  have  not,  however,  promised  mar- 
riage to  each  other'?'  'Yes,  mother,'  I  answer- 
ed, '  we  are  betrothed ;'  and  I  was  then  obliged 
to  weep.  'Indeed!'  said  my  mother;  'how  did 
that  happen "?  for  you  have  not  been  alone  to- 
gether!' I  then  related  to  her  every  thing  cir- 
cumstantially, as  it  had  occurred,  and  told  her 
the  plain  truth.  She  was  astonished  at  it,  and 
said,  'Thou  art  involving  thyself  in  difficulties. 
Stilling  must  first  study,  before  you  can  live  to- 
gether; how  wilt  thou  bear  than  Besides,  thou 
art  but  weak  in  mind  and  body.'  I  answered, 
that  I  would  do  as  well  as  I  was  able — the  Lord 
would  assist  me  ;  that  I  must  marry  him ;  yet  if 
my  parents  forbade  it,  1  would  obey  them  ;  but  I 
would  never  take  another.    '  Thou  hast  nothing 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


73 


lo  fear,'  rejoined  my  mother.  As  soon  as  my 
parents  were  again  alone  in  the  room,  and  I  in 
the  parlour,  she  related  every  thing  to  my  lather, 
just  as  1  had  told  her.  He  was  long  silent;  but 
at  length  he  said,  'I  have  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing  before ;  1  can  say  nothing  to  it.'  Thus  the 
matter  still  stands ;  my  lather  has  not  said  a 
word  to  me,  -either  good  or  bad.  But  it  is  now 
our  duty  to  ask  our  parents  this  very  evening, 
and  obtain  their  full  consent.  Just  as  you  went 
up-stairs,  my  father  said  to  me,  1  Go  with  Still- 
ing into  the  other  room  alone ;  thou  hast  proba- 
bly something  to  say  to  him.'" 

Stilling's  heart  leaped  for  joy.  He  felt  that 
the  matter  would  terminate  favorably.  He 
conversed  some  time  longer  with  his  beloved, 
and  they  bound  themselves  once  more,  in  a  close 
embrace,  to  inviolable  fidelity,  and  an  upright 
deportment  before  God  and  man. 

After  supper  in  the  evening,  when  all  besides 
in  the  house  were  asleep,  Mr.  and  Mis.  Fried- 
enberg, together  with  Christina  and  Stilling, 
continued  sitting  in  the  parlour.  The  latter 
then  began,  and  faithfully  related  the  whole 
event  in  all  its  minutest  details,  and  concluded 
with  these  words :  "  Now  I  ask  you  sincerely, 
if  you  are  heartily  willing  to  receive  me  into  the 
number  of  your  children'?  I  will  faithfully,  with 
the  help  of  God,  fulfil  every  filial  duty,  and  I  sol- 
emnly protest  against  all  help  and  assistance 
towards  my  studies.  I  request  your  daughter 
alone;  yes,  I  take  God  to  witness,  that  it  is  the 
most  dreadful  thought  I  could  have,  were  I  to 
imagine  you  perhaps  might  think  I  had  any 
mean  intention  in  this  connection." 

Mr.  Frieden  berg  sighed  deeply,  and  a  few 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  "  Yes,"  said  he, 
"  my  dear  friend,  I  am  satisfied,  and  willingly 
accept  you  for  my  son ;  for  1  see  that  the  finger 
of  God  is  at  work  in  the  matter.  I  cannot  say 
any  thing  against  it;  besides,  I  know  you,  and 
am  well  aware  that  you  are  too  honorable  to 
have  such  unchristian  intentions ;  but  this  I 
must  candidly  add,  that  I  am  not  at  all  in  a  sit- 
uation to  bear  the  expense  of  your  studying  at 
the  university."  He  then  turned  to  Christina, 
and  said,  "  But  hast  thou  sufficient  confidence 
in  thyself  to  be  able  to  bear  the  long  absence  of 
thy  friend'?"  She  answered,  "Yes;  God  will 
give  me  strength  for  it." 

Mr.  Friedenberg  now  rose  up,  embraced  Still- 
ing, kissed  him,  and  wept  on  his  neck;  after 
him,  Mrs.  Friedenberg  did  the  same.  The  sen- 
sations which  Stilling  experienced  are  inexpres- 
sible; it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  translated 
into  paradise.  He  did  not  trouble  himself  in  the 
least  whence  the  money  for  the  prosecution  of 
his  studies  was  to  come  from.  The  words, 
"  The  Lord  will  provide,"  were  so  deeply  engra- 
ven on  his  soul,  that  he  could  not  feel  anxious. 

Mr.  Friedenberg  advised  him  to  continue  that 
year  with  Mr.  Spanier,  and  to  betake  himself  to 
the  university  the  following  autumn.  This  was 
just  what  Stilling  wished,  and  had  also  been  his 
intention.  Finally,  they  all  resolved  to  keep  the 
matter  a  profound  secret,  in  order  to  prevent  the 
misjudgings  of  others ;  and  then  by  fervent  pray- 
er on  all  sides,  entreated  the  blessing  of  God  on 
this  important  undertaking. 

Stilling  therefore  still  continued  in  his  situa- 
tion with  Mr.  Spanier,  as  well  as  his  customary 
walks  to  Rasenheim  and  Schönenthal.  A  quar- 
ter of  a  year  before  Michaelmas,  he  announced 
his  intention  to  Mr.  Spanier,  in  a  polite  and 
friendly  manner,  and  besought  him  not  to  take 
K 


this  step  amiss,  since,  being  in  the  thirtieth  year 
of  his  age,  it  was  at  length  time  for  him  to  pro- 
vide for  himself.  To  all  this,  Mr.  Spanier  did 
not  answer  a  word,  but  remained  perfectly  si- 
lent; from  that  time,  however,  his  heart  was  en- 
tirely turned  away  from  Stilling,  so  that  the  last 
three  months  were  not  a  little  painful  to  him — 
not  because  any  one  threw  any  difficulty  in  his 
way,  but  because  friendship  and  familiarity  had 
wholly  disappeared. 

Four  weeks  before  the  Frankfort  auturftnal 
fair,  Stilling  took  leave  of  his  former  dear  pa- 
tron, and  the  whole  household.  Mr.  Spanier 
wept  bitterly,  but  did  not  say  a  word,  either  good 
or  evil.  Stilling  wept  also ;  and  thus  he  left  his 
last  school  or  situation  as  tutor,  and  removed  to 
his  friends  at  Rasenheim,  after  having  quietly 
spent  seven  entire  and  pleasant  years  in  one 
place. 

Mr.  Spanier  had  never  communicated  his  true 
intentions  with  regard  to  Stilling.  It  was  im- 
possible for  the  latter  to  enter  into  his  plan  of 
becoming  a  doctor  merely  as  regards  the  title, 
without  possessing  sufficient  knowledge;  and  as 
Mr.  Spanier  did  not  fully  communicate  to  him 
the  rest  of  his  plan,  Stilling  could  not  be  ac- 
quainted with  it,  much  less  depend  upon  it. 
Besides  ail  this,  Providence  led  him,  as  it  were, 
with  might  and  power,  without  his  cooperation; 
so  that  he  was  obliged  to  follow  its  guidance,  ■ 
even  though  he  had  resolved  upon  something 
different  for  himself.  But  the  most  disadvan- 
tageous circumstance  for  Stilling  was,  that  hav- 
ing never  made  any  certain  agreement  with  Mr. 
Spanier  with  regard  to  salary,  the  worthy  man 
gave  him  only  what  was  sufficient  for  his  neces- 
sities. But  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  pur- 
chasing books  and  other  requisites — which,  ta- 
ken altogether,  made  something  considerable 
yearly — Mr.  Spanier  gave  him  nothing  at  his 
departure;  so  that  he  arrived  at  Mr.  Frieden- 
berg's,  at  Rasenheim,  without  money.  The  lat- 
ter, however,  immediately  advanced  him  a  hun- 
dred rix-dollars  to  procure  what  was  most  ne- 
cessary for  his  journey,  and  the  remainder  he 
was  to  take  with  him  ;  whilst  his  Christian 
friends  at  Schönenthal  presented  him  with  a  new 
coat,  and  offered  their  further  assistance. 

Stilling  continued  four  weeks  with  his  in- 
tended and  her  family,  during  which  time  he 
made  preparations  for  removing  to  the  universi- 
ty. He  had  not  yet  made  choice  of  one,  but 
waited  for  an  intimation  from  his  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther; for  since  he  intended  to  study  simply  from 
faith,  it  was  necessary  he  should  hot  follow  his 
own  will  in  any  thing. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks,  he  went  once  more 
to  Schönenthal  to  visit  his  friends  there.  On 
his  arrival,  a  very  dear  and  valued  friend  asked 
him  whither  he  intended  to  go.  He  replied,  he 
did  not  know.  "  Oh,"  said  she,  "  our  neighbour, 
Mr.  Troost,  is  going  to  Strasburg  to  spend  a 
winter  there  ;  go  with  him."  This  touched  Still- 
ing's heart;  he  felt  that  this  was  the  intimation 
he  had  waited  for.  Meanwhile,  Mr.  Troost 
himself  entered  the  room.  Stilling's  friend  im- 
mediately began  to  speak  to  him  concerning 
him.  The  worthy  man  was  heartily  pleased  at 
having  him  for  a  companion,  for  he  had  already- 
heard  something  of  him. 

Mr.  Troost  was,  at  that  time,  a  man  of  about 
fortyyears  of  age,  and  still  unmarried.  He  had 
already  practised  for  twenty  years,  with  much 
celebrity,  as  a  surgeon  in  Schönenthal;  but  be- 
ing no  longer  satisfied  with  his  knowledge,  he 


74  HEINRICH 

determined  once  more  to  study  anatomy  thor- 
oughly, at  Strasburg,  and  attend  other  surgical 
lectures,  in  order  to  return  furnished  with  new 
powers,  that  he  might  be  able  to  serve  his  neigh- 
bours the  more  effectually.  He  had  already 
spent  some  years  at  this  celebrated  university 
in  his  youth,  and  there  laid  the  foundation  of 
his  knowledge. 

Now  this  was  just  the  proper  man  for  Stilling. 
He  had  the  best  and  noblest  of  hearts,  composed 
entirely  of  philanthropy  and  friendship  ;  and 
possessed,  besides  this,  an  excellent  character, 
much  religion,  and  the  virtues  resulting  from  it. 
He  knew  the  world,  and  was  well  acquainted 
with  Strasburg;  and  certainly  it  was  a  very  pa- 
ternal guidance  of  Providence,  that  Stilling  be- 
came acquainted  with  him  just  at  that  time. 
He  therefore  immediately  made  friends  with 
Mr.  Troost.  They  agreed  to  travel  to  Frank- 
fort with  merchants  proceeding  to  the  fair,  and 
from  thence  to  Strasburg  by  a  return-chaise; 
they  also  decided  upon  the  day  of  their  depart- 
ure, which  was  fixed  for  that  day  week. 

Stilling  had  already  communicated  to  his  fa- 
ther and  uncle,  in  the  province  of  Salen,  his  fur- 
ther and  singular  guidance  ;  they  were  terrified 
and  astonished;  they  feared,  hoped,  and  confess- 
ed that  they  must  resign  him  entirely  to  God, 
and  merely  stand  at  a  distance,  and  contemplate 
his  aspiring  flight  with  fear  and  trembling  ; 
meanwhile  they  wished  him  every  imaginable 
blessing. 

Stilling's  situation  was  now,  in  every  respect, 
dreadful.  Let  any  rational  man  imagine  him- 
self in  his  place,  and  feel !  He  had  betrothed 
himself  with  a  tender,  pious,  susceptible,  but  at 
the  same  time  sickly  young  woman,  whom  he 
loved  more  than  his  own  soul,  and  who  was 
pronounced  by  all  the  physicians  to  be  consump- 
tive, so  that  he  had  great  reason  to  fear  when  he 
took  leave  of  her  that  he  should  see  her  no  more. 
Besides  this,  he  felt  all  the  painful  sufferings 
which  her  tender  and  affectionate  heart  would 
have  to  endure  for  such  a  length  of  time.  The 
whole  of  his  future  welfare  depended  solely  on 
his  becoming  a  complete  physician,  and  for  this 
purpose  a  thousand  rix  dollars  at  least  were  re- 
quisite, of  which  he  could  not  tell  where  in  the 
whole  world  to  raise  a  hundred ;  consequently 
his  situation  was  critical,  even  in  this  respect; 
if  he  failed  in  the  latter  point,  he  would  fail  in 
every  thing. 

Yet,  although  Stilling  placed  all  this  before 
him  in  a  very  lively  manner,  he  nevertheless 
fixed  his  confidence  firmly  on  God,  and  drew 
this  inference:  "God  begins  nothing  without 
terminating  it  gloriously.  Now  it  is  most  cer- 
tainly true,  that  He  alone  has  ordered  my  pres- 
ent circumstances,  entirely  without  my  coopera- 
tion :  consequently,  it  is  also  most  certainly  true, 
that  he  will  accomplish  every  thing  regarding  me 
in  a  manner  worthy  of  him." 

This  conclusion  frequently  rendered  him  so 
courageous,  that  he  smilingly  said  to  his  friends 
at  Rasenheim,  "  I  wonder  from  what  quarter  my 
Heavenly  Father  will  provide  me  with  money !" 
However,  he  did  not  communicate  his  peculiar 
situation  to  any  other  individual,  and  especially 
not  to  Mr.  Troost,  for  this  tender  friend  would 
have  hesitated  much  to  take  him  with  him  ;  or 
he  would  at  least  have  had  to  endure  much  anx- 
iety on  his  account. 

At  length,  the  day  of  his  departure  approach- 
ed; Christina  swam  in  tears,  and  occasionally 
fainted  away,  and  the  whole  house  was  troubled. 


STILLING. 

The  last  evening,  Mr.  Friedenberg  and  Still- 
ing sat  together  alone.  The  former  could  not 
refrain  from  weeping.  He  said  with  tears  to 
Stilling,  "My  dear  friend,  I  am  heartily  con- 
cerned about  you;  how  gladly  would  I  provide 
you  with  money,  if  I  were  able!  I  began  my 
business  and  manufactory  with  nothing,  and  I 
am  now  just  in  a  situation  to  maintain  myself 
respectably;  but  were  I  to  bear  the  expense  of 
your  studies,  I  should  quite  lose  ground  again. 
Besides  this,  1  have  ten  children  ;  and  what  I  do 
for  the  first,  I  owe  to  all." 

"  Hear  me,  my  dear  friend,"  answered  Still- 
ing, with  a  cheerful  courage  and  a  joyful  mien  ; 
"  I  do  not  wish  for  a  farthing  from  you  ;  believe 
assuredly,  that  He  who  was  able  to  feed  so  many 
thousand  people  in  the  desert  with  a  little  bread, 
lives  still,  and  to  Him  I  commit  myself.  He  will 
certainly  find  out  means.  Do  not  you  therefore 
be  anxious — '  The  Lord  will  provide.'  " 

He  had  already  sent  off  his  books,  clothes, 
and  luggage  to  Frankfort;  and  the  next  morn- 
ing, after  having  breakfasted  with  his  friends, 
he  ran  up  to  the  chamber  of  his  Christina,  where 
she  sat  and  wept.  He  took  her  in  his  arms, 
kissed  her,  and  said,  "  Farewell,  my  angel ! — 
the  Lord  strengthen  thee,  and  preserve  thee  in 
health  and  happiness,  till  we  see  each  other 
again !"  So  saying,  he  ran  out  of  the  door. 
He  then  took  leave  of  every  one,  hastened 
away,  and  wept  copiously  on  the  road.  Chris- 
tina's elder  brother  accompanied  him  to  Schön- 
enthal. The  latter  then  turned  back  sorrow- 
fully, and  Stilling  repaired  to  his  travelling  com- 
panion. 

I  will  say  nothing  respecting  his  journey  to 
Frankfort.  They  all  arrived  there  in  safety, 
with  the  exception  of  having  suffered  a  violent 
fright  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ellefeld  on  the 
Rhine. 

Forty  rix-dollars  was  the  whole  of  Stilling's 
property  on  setting  out  from  Rasenheim.  They 
were  compelled  to  remain  eleven  days  at  Frank- 
fort, waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  proceed  fur- 
ther; indeed,  Mr.  Troost  could  not  leave  soon- 
er ;  his  money  consequently  melted  away  in 
such  a  manner,  that  two  days  before  his  depart- 
ure for  Strasburg,  he  had  only  a  single  rix-dollar 
left,  and  this  was  all  the  money  he  had  in  the 
world.  He  said  nothing  of  it  to  any  one,  but 
waited  for  the  assistance  of  his  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther. However,  notwithstanding  his  courage, 
he  was  still  uneasy,  he  walked  about,  and  pray- 
ed inwardly  to  God.  Meanwhile,  he  happened 
to  reach  the  Römerberg,  and  there  met  with  a 
merchant  from  Schönenthal,  who  knew  him 
well,  and  was  also  a  friend  of  his;  I  will  call 
him  Liebmann. 

Mr.  Liebmann  saluted  him  in  a  friendly  man- 
ner, and  asked  him  how  it  fared  with  him.  He 
answered,  "  Very  well."  "  I  am  glad  of  it,"  re- 
joined the  other;  "come  this  evening  to  my 
apartment,  and  sup  with  me  on  what  I  have. 
Stilling  promised  to  do  so,  and  Mr.  Liebmann 
then  showed  him  where  he  was  lodging. 

In  the  evening  he  went  to  the  place  appointed. 
After  supper,  Mr.  Liebmann  began  as  follows : 
"  Tell  me,  my  friend,  who  furnishes  you  with 
money  to  enable  you  to  study  1"  Stilling  smi- 
led, and  answered.  "  I  have  a  rich  Father  in  heav- 
en ;  He  will  provide  for  me."  Mr.  Liebmann 
looked  at  him,  and  continued,  "How  much  have 
you  at  present  V  Stilling  answered,  "  One  rix- 
dollar— and  that  is  all."  "So!"  rejoined  Lieb- 
mann;  "  I  am  one  of  your  Father's  stewards;  I 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


75 


will  therefore  now  act  the  paymaster."  On  this 
he  handed  over  thirty-three  rix-dollars  to  Still- 
ing, and  said,  "  I  cannot  at  present  spare  more  ; 
you  will  find  assistance  everywhere.  If  you  are 
subsequently  able  to  return  me  the  money,  well ! 
if  not,  it  is  no  matter/'  Stilling  felt  warm  tears 
in  his  eyes.  He  thanked  him  heartily  for  his 
kindness,  and  added,  "  I  am  now  rich  enough. 
I  do  not  wish  to  have  more."  This  first  trial 
made  him  so  courageous,  that  he  no  longer  doubt- 
ed that  the  Lord  would  certainly  help  him  through 
every  difficulty.  He  also  received  letters  from 
Rasenheim,  from  Mr.  Friedenberg  and  Christi- 
na. The  latter  had  taken  courage,  and  stead- 
fastly determined  to  wait  patiently.  The  former 
wrote  to  him  in  the  most  tender  language,  and 
commended  him  to  the  paternal  providence  of 
God.  He  answered  the  two  letters  likewise 
with  all  possible  tenderness  and  affection.  How- 
ever, he  mentioned  nothing  of  this  first  trial  of 
his  faith,  but  merely  wrote  that  he  had  abun- 
dance. 

Two  days  after  Mr.  Troost  met  with  a  return- 
chaise  to  Manheim,  which  he  hired  for  himself 
and  Stilling,  in  company  with  an  honest  mer- 
chant from  Lucerne,  in  Switzerland.  They 
then  took  leave  of  all  their  acquaintances  and 
friends,  took  their  seats  in  the  chaise,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way. 

In  order  to  pass  the  time  pleasantly,  each  re- 
lated what  he  knew.  Their  Swiss  companion 
became  so  sociable  that  he  opened  his  whole 
heart  to  our  two  travellers.  Stilling  was  affect- 
ed by  it;  and  he  related  his  whole  life,  with  all  its 
particulars,  so  that  the  Swiss  gentleman  often 
shed  tears  of  sympathy.  Mr.  Troost  also  had 
never  heard  it  before ;  he  was  likewise  much 
moved  by  it,  and  his  friendship  for  Stilling  be- 
came so  much  the  greater. 

At  Manheim  they  again  took  a  return-chaise 
to  Strasburg.  On  entering  the  great  forest  be- 
tween Speyer  and  Lauterburg,  Stilling  alighted. 
He  was  unaccustomed  to  riding,  and"  could  not 
well  bear  the  motion  of  the  chaise,  particularly 
in  sandy  roads.  The  Swiss  gentleman  alighted 
also,  but  Mr.  Troost  remained  in  the  carriage. 
While  the  two  travellers  were  thus  walking  to- 
gether, the  Swiss  asked  Stilling  whether  he  would 
not  part  with  Molitor's  manuscripts,  since  he  pos- 
sessed a  copy  of  it,  for  five  louis-d'ors.  Stilling 
regarded  this  again  as  a  hint  from  God,  and 
therefore  promised  it  to  him. 

They  at  length  got  into  the  chaise  again. 
Whilst  conversing  on  a  variety  of  subjects,  Mr. 
Troost,  very  mal-apropos,  began  to  speak  of  the 
manuscript  above-mentioned.  It  was  his  opin- 
ion, that  when  Stilling  had  once  finished  his 
studies,  he  would  put  little  value  on  such  se- 
crets and  quackery,  because  they  were  never 
what  they  pretended  to  be.  This  made  the  Swiss 
gentleman  prefer  his  five  louis-d'ors  to  the  manu- 
script. Had  Mr.  Troost  been  aware  of  what 
had  passed  between  the  two,  he  would  certainly 
have  been  silent  on  the  subject. 

Our  travellers  arrived  safe  and  well  at  Stras- 
burg, and  took  up  their  quarters  with  counsellor 
Blesig,  at  the  sign  of  the  Axe.  Stilling,  as  well 
as  his  friend,  wrote  home,  and  announced  their 
safe  arrival  to  their  several  friends. 

Stilling  could  not  rest  until  he  had  viewed  the 
beautiful  cathedral,  both  externally  and  inter- 
nally. He  was  so  much  delighted  with  it,  that 
he  publicly  said,  "The  sight  of  it  alone  was 
worth  the  journey;  it  is  well  it  was  built  by  a 
German."    The  next  day  they  inscribed  them- 


selves as  members  of  the  university ;  and  Mr. 
Troost,  who  was  known  there,  sought  for  a  con- 
venient apartment  for  them  both.  This  he  found 
also  according  to  his  wish ;  for  in  the  most  con- 
venient place  for  them  dwelt  a  rich  and  respect- 
able merchant,  of  the  name  of  R  ,  whose 

brother  had  resided  in  Schönenthal,  and  he  there- 
fore showed  kindness  to  Mr.  Troost  and  his  com- 
panion. This  gentleman  let  them  an  excellent- 
ly-furnished room  on  the  first  floor,  for  a  moder- 
ate price,  of  which  they  accordingly  took  pos- 
session. 

Mr.  Troost  next  went  in  search  of  a  good  eat- 
ing-house ;  and  this  he  likewise  found  close  at 
hand,  where  there  was  an  excellent  dinner-club. 
Here  he  agreed  for  himself  and  Stilling  by  the 
month.  The  latter,  meanwhile,  inquired  about 
the  lectures,  and  attended  as  many  of  them  as 
were  held.  Physics,  chemistry,  and  anatomy 
were  his  chief  objects,  and  these  he  immediately- 
entered  upon. 

The  next  day  at  noon,  they  went,  for  the  first 
time,  to  the  table-d'hote  to  dine.  They  were  the 
first  there,  and  their  places  were  pointed  out  to 
them.  About  twenty  persons  dined  at  this  table, 
and  they  saw  them  enter  one  after  another.  In 
particular,  there  came  one  into  the  room,  very 
briskly,  with  large  bright  eyes,  beautiful  fore- 
head, and  handsome  figure.  This  person  attract- 
ed the  eyes  of  Mr.  Troost  and  Stilling ;  the  for- 
mer said  to  the  latter,  "  What  a  fine-looking 
man  !"  Stilling  was  of  the  same  opinion ;  how- 
ever, he  thought  that  they  would  both  have  much 
trouble  with  him,  because  they  looked  upon  him 
as  a  wild  young  fellow;  this  he  inferred  from 
the  freedom  of  manner  assumed  by  the  student; 
however,  Stilling  was  mistaken.  Meanwhile 
they  heard  that  this  remarkable  individual  was 
called  "  Goethe." 

There  were  also  two  other  students  of  medi- 
cine ;  the  one  from  Vienna,  the  other  from  Al- 
sace. The  name  of  the  first  was  Waldberg. 
He  showed,  in  his  whole  deportment,  that  he 
possessed  ability ;  but  at  the  same  time,  a  heart 
full  of  ridicule  against  religion,  and  full  of  licen- 
tiousness in  his  manners.  The  one  from  Alsace 
was  called  Melzer,  and  was  rather  foppish ;  he 
had  a  good  disposition,  but  unfortunately  was 
inclined  to  be  irascible  and  mistrustful.  He  had 
his  seat  next  to  Stilling,  and  soon  became  very 
friendly  with  him.  Then  came  a  student  of  di- 
vinity of  the  name  of  Lerse,  one  of  the  most  ex- 
cellent of  men  ;  he  was  Göethe's  favourite,  and 
this  partiality  he  justly  merited;  for  his  abilities 
were  great,  he  was  a  good  divine,  and  had  be- 
sides the  rare  gift  of  uttering  the  most  striking 
satirical  things  in  the  presence  of  persons  of 
vicious  habits.  His  temper  was  extremely  rib- 
ble. Another  came  who  took  his  place  near 
Goethe;  I  will  say  nothing  more  of  him,  than 
that  he  was  a  good  daw  in  peacock's  feathers. 

A  very  worthy  Strasburger  sat  also  at  table. 
His  place  was  the  uppermost,  and  would  have 
been  so,  if  it  had  been  behind  the  door.  His 
modesty  does  not  permit  me  to  panegyrize  him ; 
it  was  Mr.  Saltzmann  the  registrar.  If  my  read- 
ers can  imagine  to  themselves  a  man  possessing 
the  most  thorough  and  sentimental  philosophy, 
combined  with  the  most  genuine  piety  —  they 
will  form  an  idea  of  Saltzmann.  Goethe  and 
Saltzmann  were  cordial  friends. 

Mr.  Troost  said  in  a  low  voice  to  StUling, 
"  We  shall  do  best  to  be  silent  here  for  the  first 
fortnight."  The  latter  recognized  the  truth  of 
this  remark ;  they  therefore  said  nothing,  nor  did 


76  HEINIt  CH 

any  one  take  particular  notice  of  them,  except 
that  Goethe  sometimes  rolled  his  eyes  upon 
them;  he  sat  opposite  Stilling,  and  had  the  pres- 
idency of  the  table,  without  seeking  it. 

Mr.  Troost  was  very  useful  to  Stilling;  he 
knew  (he  world  better,  and  could  therefore  lead 
him  safely  through;  without  him,  Stilling  would 
have  stumbled  a  hundred  times.  Thus  kind 
was  his  Heavenly  Father  towards  him,  so  that 
he  even  provided  him  with  a  guardian,  who 
could  not  only  assist  him  in  word  and  deed,  but 
from  whom  he  could  also  receive  instruction  and 
direction  in  his  studies;  for  certainly  Mr. Troost 
was  an  able  and  experienced  surgeon. 

Stilling  having  now  made  all  his  arrange- 
ments, pursued  his  course  heroically ;  he  was 
in  his  element;  he  eagerly  attended  to  every 
thing  he  heard;  but  he  neither  transcribed  lec- 
tures nor  any  thing  else,  but  transferred  every 
thing  into  general  ideas.  Happy  is  he  who 
knows  how  to  practise  this  method  well;  but  it 
is  not  given  to  every  one.  His  two  professors, 
the  celebrated  Messieurs  Spielmann  and  Lob- 
stein,  soon  observed  him,  and  became  fond  of 
him,  particularly  because  he  conducted  himself 
in  a  grave,  manly,  and  retired  manner. 

But  his  thirty-three  rix-dollars  had  now  melt- 
ed down  again  to  a  single  one;  on  which  ac- 
count, therefore,  he  began  again  to  pray  fervent- 
ly. God  heard  and  answered  him;  for  just  at 
the  time  of  need,  Mr.  Troost  began  to  say  to  him 
one  morning,  "You  have,  I  believe,  brought  no 
money  with  you ;  I  will  lend  you  six  Carolines 
(about  five  pounds)  until  you  receive  a  remit- 
tance." Although  Stilling  knew  as  little  where 
a  remittance  as  money  was  to  come  from,  yet 
he  accepted  this  friendly  offer,  and  Mr.  Troost 
paid  him  six  louis-d'ors.  Who  was  it  that  exci- 
ted the  heart  of  his  friend  to  make  this  offer,  at  the 
very  moment  when  it  ivas  needed  ? 

Mr.  Troost  was  dressed  neatly  and  fashion- 
ably; Stilling  likewise  pretty  much  so.  He  had 
on  a  dark-brown  coat,  with  velveteen  trowsers  ; 
he  had,  however,  still  a  round  wig,  which  he 
wished  to  wear  by  turns  with  his  bag-wigs.  He 
put  this  on,  on  one  occasion,  and  appeared  with 
it  at  the  dinner-table.  No  one  troubled  himself 
about  it,  except  Mr.  Waldberg  from  Vienna. 
The  latter  looked  at  him,  and  as  he  had  already 
heard  that  Stilling  was  inclined  to  be  very  reli- 
gious, he  began  by  asking  him,  whether  Adam 
wore  a  round  wig  in  paradise-?  All  laughed 
heartily,  except  Sallzmann,  Goethe,  and  Troost 
— they  did  not  laugh.  Sailing's  anger  pervaded 
every  limb,  and  he  answered,  "You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  such  ridicule.  Such  a  common- 
place idea  is  not  worth  a  laugh  !"  But  Goethe 
interrupted  him,  and  added,  "Try  a  man  first, 
whether  he  deserves  to  be  ridiculed.  It  is  dev- 
ilish to  make  a  jest  of  a  worthy  man,  who  has 
offended  no  one."  From  that  time,  Goethe  took 
Stilling's  part,  visited  him,  became  fond  of  him, 
made  an  alliance  of  friendship  and  fraternity 
with  him,  and  labored  on  every  occasion  to 
show  him  kindness.  It  is  lamentable  that  so 
few  persons  know  the  heart  of  this  excellent 
man. 

After  Martinmas,  lectures  on  midwifery  were 
announced,  and  those  who  were  desirous  of  at- 
tending them  were  invited.  This  was  a  princi- 
pal thing  with  Stilling:  he  therefore  presented 
himself,  on  the  Mondav  evening,  with  others,  in 
order  to  subscribe.  He  had  no  idea  but  that 
these  lectures  would  be  paid  for,  like  the  others, 
after  thev  were  ended ;  but  how  was  he  dismay- 


STILLING. 

ed,  when  the  doctor  announced  that  the  gentle- 
men would  please  pay  six  louis-d'ors  each  for 
the  lectures,  the  following  Thursday  evening! 
There  was,  therefore,  an  exception  in  this  case, 
and  that  for  a  good  reason.  Now  if  Stilling 
did  not  pay  on  the  day  fixed,  his  name  would  be 
struck  out.  This  would  have  been  disgraceful, 
and  would  have  weakened  the  credit  which  Still- 
ing absolutely  required.  He  was  therefore  at 
a  loss  what  to  do.  Mr.  Troost  had  already  ad- 
vanced him  six  louis-d'ors,  and  there  was  still 
no  prospect  of  being  able  to  return  them. 

As  soon  as  Stilling  entered  his  apartment,  and 
found  it  empty — for  Mr.  Troost  was  gone  to  at- 
tend a  lecture — he  shut  the  door  after  him,  threw 
himself  down  in  a  corner,  and  wrestled  earnest- 
ly with  God  for  aid  and  compassion.  The 
Thursday  evening  however  arrived,  without 
any  thing  of  a  consoling  nature  manifesting  it- 
self. It  was  already  five  o'clock ;  and  six  was 
the  time  that  he  ought  to  have  the  money.  Still- 
ing's faith  began  almost  to  fail ;  he  broke  out 
into  a  perspiration  with  anxiety,  and  his  whole 
face  was  wet  with  tears.  He  felt  no  more  cour- 
age or  faith,  and  therefore  he  looked  forward  to 
the  future  as  to  a  hell  with  all  its  torments. 
Whilst  he  was  pacing  the  room  occupied  with 
such  ideas,  some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  He 
called  out,  "Come  in!"    It  was  their  landlord. 

Mr.  R  .    He  entered  the  room,  and  after  the 

customary  compliments,  he  began,  "  1  am  come 
to  see  how  you  are,  and  whether  you  are  satis- 
fied with  your  lodging."  (Mr.  Troost  was  still 
not  there,  and  knew  nothing  of  Stilling's  present 
struggles.)  Stilling  answered,  "Your  inquiries 
after  my  health  do  me  much  honor;  I  am  well, 
thank  God  !  and  your  apartment  is  quite  accord- 
ing to  the  wish  of  both  of  us." 

Mr.  R         rejoined,  "  I  am  very  glad  of  it, 

particularly  as  I  see  you  are  such  well-behaved 
and  worthy  people.  But  I  wished  particularly 
to  ask  you  one  thing :  have  you  brought  money 
with  you.  or  do  you  expect  bills  ?'  Stilling  now 
felt  like  Habakkuk,  when  the  angel  took  him  by 
the  hair  of  his  head  to  carry  him  to  Babylon. 
He  answered,  "  No,  I  have  brought  no  money 
with  me." 

Mr.  R  stood,  looked  at  him  fixedly,  and 

said,  "  For  God's  sake,  how  will  you  be  able  to 
proceed  1" 

Stilling  answered,  "  Mr.  Troost  has  already 
lent  me  something."     "  But  he  requires  hi* 

money  himself,"  rejoined  Mr.  R  .    "  I  will 

advance  you  money,  as  much  as  you  need  ;  and 
when  you  receive  your  remittance,  you  need 
only  give  the  bill  to  me.  that  you  may  have  no 
trouble  in  disposing  of  it.  Are  you  in  want  of 
any  money  at  present  1"  Stilling  could  scarce- 
ly refrain  from  crying  out ;  however,  he  restrain- 
ed himself,  so  as  not  to  show  his  feelings. 
"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  have  need  of  six  louis-d'ors 
this  evening,  and  I  was  at  a  loss." 

Mr.  R  was  shocked,  and  replied,  "Yes, 

I  dare  say  you  are !  1  now  see  that  God  has 
sent  me  to  your  assistance,"  and  went  out  of  the- 
room. 

Stilling  felt  at  this  moment  like  Daniel  in  the 
lion's  den,  when  Habakkuk  brought  him  his 
food  ;  he  was  overpowered  by  his  feelings,  and 
was  scarcely  aware  of  Mr.  R  's  reenter- 
ing the  room.  This  excellent  man  brought 
eight  louis-d'ors,  handed  them  to  him,  and  went 
away. 

In  the  sphere  in  which  Stilling  now  moved, 
he  had  dailv  temntations  enough  to  become  a 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


77 


sceptic  in  religion.  He  heard,  every  day,  new 
reasons  against  the  Bible,  against  Christianity, 
and  against  the  principles  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion. Ali  the  proofs  he  had  ever  collected,  and 
which  had  always  hitherto  tranquillized  him, 
were  no  longer  sufficient  to  satisfy  bis  inflexible 
reason ;  the  trials  of  faith  alone",  of  which  he 
had  already  experienced  so  many  in  the  deal- 
ings of  Divine  Providence  with  him.  made  him 
quite  invincible.  He  therefore  concluded  as 
follows  :  "  He  who  so  obviously  hears  the  pray- 
ers of  men,  and  guides  their  destinies  so  won- 
derfully and  visibly,  must,  beyond  dispute,  be 
the  true  God,  and  his  doctrine  the  word  of  Cod. 
Now  1  have  ever  adored  and  worshipped  Jesus 
Christ,  as  my  God  and  Saviour.  He  has  heard 
me  in  the  hour  of  need,  and  wonderfully  sup- 
ported and  succoured  me.  Consequently  Jesus 
Christ  is  incontestably  the  true  God,  his  doctrine 
is  the  word  of  God  and  his  religion,  as  He  has 
instituted  it,  the  true  religion." 

Th^is  inference,  indeed,  was  of  no  value  to 
others,  but  it  was  perfectly  sufficient  for  himself, 
to  delend  him  from  all  doubts. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  R  was  gone,  Stilling  fell 

on  the  floor,  thanked  God  with  tears,  and  cast 
himself  anew  into  His  paternal  arms,  after 
which  he  went  to  the  college,  and  paid  as  well  as 
the  best. 

Whilst  this  was  passing  in  Strasburg,  Mr. 
Liebmann  of  Schönenthal  paid  a  visit,  on  one 
occasion,  to  Mr.  Friedenberg,  at  Rasenheim,  for 
they  were  very  good  friends.  Liebmann  knew 
nothing  of  Selling's  alliance  with  Christina,  al- 
though he  was  well  aware  that  Frieden  berg  was 
his  cordial  friend. 

Whilst  they  were  sitting  together,  the  conver- 
sation turned  upon  their  friend  at  Strasburg. 
Liebmann  was  never  weary  in  relating  how  Mr. 
Troost  commended  Stilling's  industry,  genius, 
and  good  success  in  his  studies.  Friedenberg  and 
his  family,  particularly  Christina,  were  heartily 
delighted  at  it.  Liebmann  could  not  comprehend 
whence  he  had  his  money,  any  more  than  Fried- 
enberg. "  W ell,"  continued  Liebmann,  "  I  wish 
some  friend  would  join  with  me;  we  would  re- 
mit him,  for  once,  a  considerable  sum." 

Mr.  Fridenberg  perceived  this  leading  of  Prov- 
idence, and  he  could  scarcely  refrain  from  tears. 
But  Christina  ran  up-stairs  into  her  room,  cast 
fcerself  before  God,  and  prayed.  Friedenberg 
replied,  "  I  will  join  with  you  in  it."  Liebmann 
rejoiced,  and  said,  "  Well  then,  do  you  count  out 
one  hundred  and  fifty  rix-dollars;  1  will  add  as 
many  more  to  them,  and  send  off  the  bill  to  him.''' 
Friedenberg  willingly  did  s.o. 

A  fortnight  after  the  severe  trial  of  faith  which 
Stilling  had  endured,  he  received,  quite  unex- 
pectedly, a  letter  from  Mr.  Liebmann,  together 
with  a  bill  for  three  hundred  rix-dollars.  He 
laughed  aloud,  placed  himself  against  the  win- 
dow, cast  a  joyful  look  towards  heaven,  and  said, 
"This  is  only  possible  with  thee,  thou  Almighty 
Father! — may  my  whole  life  be  devoted  to  thy 
praise!" 

He  now  paid  Mr.  Troost,  Mr.  R  ,  and 

others  to  whom  he  was  indebted,  and  retained 
enough  to  enable  him  to  get  through  the  winter. 
His  manner  of  life  at  Strasburg  was  so  remark- 
able, that  the  whole  university  spoke  of  him. 
Philosophy  had  been,  from  the  first,  the  science 
to  which  his  spirit  most  peculiarly  inclined.  In 
order  to  exercise  himself  in  it  the  more,  he  re- 
solved to  read  a  public  lecture  in  his  apartment, 
in  the  evenings,  from  five  to  six  o'clock,  at  which 


hour  he  was  at  leisure.  For  as  he  had  a  good 
natural  gift  of  eloquence,  he  the  more  readily 
resolved  to  do  this,  partly  to  rehearse  what  he 
had  heard,  and  exercise  himself  further  in  it,  and 
partly  also  to  attain  an  ability  for  speaking  in 
public.  As  he  demanded  nothing  for  it,  and  as 
this  lecture  was  regarded  as  a  repetition,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  it,  without  any  one  objecting  to  it.  He 
obtained  a  number  ol'  hearers,  and  in  conse- 
quence, many  acquaintances  and  friends. 

His  own  lectures  he  never  neglected.  He 
prepared  his  own  studies  in  anatomy  with  pleas- 
ure and  delight;  and  what  he  had  prepared,  he 
demonstrated  publicly,  so  that  both  professors 
and  students  were  astonished  at  him.  Professor 
Lobstein,  who,  as  is  well  known,  occupied  this 
department  with  the  greatest  celebrity,  grew  very 
fond  of  him,  and  spared  no  pains  to  instruct  him 
thoroughly  in  the  science.  He  also  visited,  that 
winter,  the  sick  in  the  hospitals,  with  Professor 
Ehrmann.  He  there  observed  the  diseases,  and 
>  in  the  dissecting-room,  their  causes.  In  a  word, 
he  took  all  possible  pains  in  order  to  attain  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  science  of  physic. 

Goethe  gave  him  another  direction  in  refer- 
ence to  polite  literature.  He  made  him  ac- 
quainted with  Ossian,  Shakspeare,  Fielding, 
and  Sterne;  and  in  this  manner,  Stilling  made  a 
transition  out  of  nature  into  nature.  There  was 
also  a  society  of  young  people  at  Strasburg,  who 
called  themselves  the  Society  of  the  Belles  Let- 
tres,  to  which  he  was  invited,  and  received  as  a 
member;  here  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
best  works,  and  the  present  slate  of  polite  litera- 
ture in  the  world. 

During  that  winter  Herder  came  to  Stras- 
burg; Sfilling  was  made  acquainted  with  him 
by  Goethe  and  Troost.  He  never  in  his  life  ad- 
mired any  one  so  much  as  this  man,  of  whom  it 
has  been  said,  "  Herder  has  only  one  idea,  and 
that  is  a  whole  world."  He  furnished  Stilling 
with  a  sketch  of  all  things  in  one, — 1  cannot  call 
it  otherwise;  and  if  a  spirit  ever  received  an  im- 
petus to  an  eternal  movement,  Stilling  received, 
it  from  Herder,  and  this  because  he  harmonised 
with  this  excellent  genius,  with  respect  to  natu- 
ral disposition,  more  than  with  Goethe. 

The  spring  approached,  and  Mr.  Troost  made 
preparations  for  his  departure.  Though  Stilling 
deeply  felt  the  separation  from  such  a  worthy 
man,  yet  he  had  now  the  best  acquaintance  in 
Strasburg,  and  besides  this,  he  hoped  in  the 
course  of  a  year  to  be  with  him  again.  He  gave 
him  letters  to  carry  with  him  ;  and  as  Mr.  Troost 
had  discovered  that  he  was  betrothed,  Stilling 
besought  him  to  go  to  Rasenheim,  the  first  op- 
portunity, and  relate  to  his  friends  personally 
every  particular  respecting  his  present  position. 

Thus  this  worthy  man  set  off  again,  in  April, 
for  the  Low-lands,  after  having  once  more  gone 
through  the  studies  of  the  sciences  he  most  re- 
quired, with  the  greatest  industry.  But  Stilling 
courageously  continued  his  academical  course. 

The  Tuesday  before  Whitsuntide  was  fixed 
for  the  marriage  of  the  son  of  one  of  the  Profes- 
sors, on  which  account  there  were  no  lectures. 
Stillins:  therefore  determined  to  spend  the  day  in 
his  own  apartment,  and  study  for  himself.  At 
nine  o'clock,  a  sudden  panic  seized  him;  his 
heart  beat  like  a  hammer,  and  he  knew  not  what 
was  the  mailer  with  him.  He  rose  up,  paced 
the  room,  and  felt  an  irresistible  impulse  to  set 
off  home.  He  started  at  this  idea,  and  consider- 
ed the  loss  he  might  sustain  both  with  regard  to 
money  and  with  respect  to  his  studies.    He  at 


78  HEINRICH 

length  believed  it  was  only  a  hypochondriacal 
chimera ;  he  therefore  strove  to  repel  it  from  his 
mind  by  force,  and  sat  down  again  to  his  studies. 
But  the  uneasiness  he  felt  was  so  great,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  rise  up  again.  He  was  now  re- 
ally troubled ;  there  was  something  in  him  which 
powerfully  urged  him  to  return  home. 

Stilling  knew  not  whither  he  should  look  for 
counsel  or  comfort.  He  represented  to  himself 
what  people  might  think  of  him,  were  he  to  trav- 
el fifty  German  miles  at  a  venture,  and  perhaps 
ünd  every  thing  at  home  in  the  best  situation. 
But  as  his  anxiety  and  the  impulse  he  felt  still 
continued,  he  betook  himself  to  prayer,  and  be- 
sought the  Lord,  if  it  were  His  will  that  he 
should  travel  home,  to  give  him  an  assurance 
respecting  the  cause  of  it.    Whilst  praying  thus 

within  himself,  -Mr.  R  's  clerk  entered  the 

room,  and  brought  him  the  following  letter: — 

"  Rasenheim,  9th  May,  Uli. 
"My  dearly  beloved  Friend, 
"  I  doubt  not  that  you  have  duly  received  the 
letters  from  my  wife,  son,  and  Mr.  Troost.  You 
must  not  be  alarmed  when  I  inform  you,  that 
your  dear  Christina  is  rather  poorly.  She  has 
been,  for  the  last  two  days,  so  extremely  ill,  that 
she  is  now  very — very  weak.  My  heart  is  so 
affected  by  it,  that  floods  of  tears  run  down  my 
cheeks.  However,  I  must  not  write  much  of 
this:  I  might  be  saying  too  much.  I  sigh  and 
pray  most  heartily  ihr  the  dear  child ;  and  also 
for  ourselves,  that  we  may  filially  resign  our- 
selves to  God's  holy  will.  May  the  Eternal  and 
Most  Merciful  be  gracious  unto  all  of  us !  Your 
dear  Christina  is  pleased  at  my  writing  to  you 
on  this  occasion,  for  she  is  so  weak  that  she  can- 
not say  much.  I  must  cease  writing  a  little; 
may  the  Almighty  God  put  it  into  my  heart  what 
to  write !  I  will  go  on  in  God's  name ;  and  must 
tell  you  that  your  beloved  Christina,  according  to 
human  appearance — be  firm,  my  dearest  friend! 
— has  not  many  days  to  spend  here,  before  she 
will  enter  her  eternal  rest;  however,  I  write  ac- 
cording as  we  men  view  the  matter.  Now,  my 
beloved  friend — I  think  my  heart  will  melt ;  I 
cannot  write  much  more  to  you.  Your  dear 
Christina  would  gladly  see  you  once  more  in 
this  world;  but  what  shall  I  say  to,  or  advise 
you  1  I  can  write  no  further,  for  the  tears  flow 
so  rapidly  upon  the  paper.  O  God,  thou  know- 
est  me,  and  that  I  will  gladly  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  journey; — but  I  dare  not  advise  you  :  ask 
advice  of  the  true  Counsellor,  to  whom  I  hearti- 
ly commend  you.  Myself,  my  wife,  your  be- 
trothed, and  the  children,  salute  you  a  thousand 
times. 

"I  am,  eternally, 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"Peter  Friedenberg." 

Stilling  threw  himself  like  a  madman  from 
one  side  of  the  room  to  another;  he  did  not  sob 
nor  weep,  but  looked  like  one  who  despaired  of 
his  salvation ;  at  length  he  recollected  himself 
so  far  as  to  throw  off  his  morning-gown,  put  on 
his  clothes,  and  then  ran,  as  well  as  he  was  able, 
with  the  letter,  to  Goethe.  As  soon  as  he  enter- 
ed his  room,  he  exclaimed,  in  the  agony  of  his 
soul,  "  I  am  lost ! — there,  read  the  letter !"  Göethe 
read  it,  started  up,  looked  at  him  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  and  said,  "Thou  poor  Stilling!"  He 
then  went  back  with  him  to  his  lodging;  an- 
other true  friend,  to  whom  Stilling  related  his 
misfortune,  also  accompanied  them.  Göethe 
and  this  friend  packed  up  what  was  needful  in 


STILLING. 

his  portmanteau,  another  inquired  for  an  oppor- 
tunity for  him  by  which  he  might  take  his  de- 
parture; which  was  soon  found,  for  a  vessel  lay 
ready  on  the  Preusch,  that  would  set  sail  at  noon 
for  Mayence,  the  captain  of  which  readily  took 
Stilling  with  him.  The  latter,  meanwhile,  wrote 
a  few  lines  to  his  friends,  to  announce  his  speedy 
arrival.  After  Goethe  had  packed  his  portman- 
teau, he  ran  to  procure  some  provisions  for  his 
friend,  and  carried  them  on  board  the  vessel. 
Stilling  went  with  him,  prepared  for  his  journey. 
Here  they  took  leave  of  each  other  with  many 
tears.  Stilling  set  sail  in  reliance  on  Divine 
protection ;  and  after  commencing  his  journey,, 
felt  his  mind  more  at  ease,  and  he  had  the  pre- 
sentiment that  he  would  find  his  Christina  still 
alive,  and  that  she  would  get  better;  however, 
he  took  several  books  with  him,  in  order  to  con- 
tinue his  studies  at  home.  It  was  just  the  most 
convenient  time  for  him  to  travel;  for  most  of 
the  lectures  had  ceased,  and  the  most  important 
'had  not  yet  recommenced. 

Nothing  remarkable  occurred  on  the  voyage 
to  Mayence.  He  arrived  there  on  the  Friday 
evening,  at  six  o'clock,  paid  for  his  passage,  took 
his  portmanteau  under  his  arm,  and  ran  to  the 
Rhine  bridge,  in  order  to  find  a  conveyance  tc* 
Cologne.  He  there  heard  that  a  large  covered 
barge  had  left  two  hours  before,  which  would 
stop  the  night  at  Bingen.  A  boatman  imme- 
diately stepped  up  to  him,  and  promised  Stilling 
to  take  him  thither  in  three  hours,  ibr  four  guild- 
ers, although  it  is  six  leagues  from  Mayence  to 
Bingen.  Stilling  agreed  with  him.  Whilst  the 
boatman  was  making  ready  to  depart,  a  smart 
little  fellow  of  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  with  a 
small  portmanteau,  came  up  to  Stilling,  and  ask- 
ed whether  he  would  permit  him  to  travel  with 
him  to  Cologne.  Stilling  consented ;  and  as  he. 
promised  the  boatman  two  guilders  more,  the: 
latter  was  also  satisfied. 

The  two  travellers,  therefore,  entered  the  three- 
boarded  boat.  Stilling  was  not  pleased  with  it 
from  the  first,  and  expressed  his  apprehensions, 
but  the  two  boatmen  laughed  at  him.  They 
then  set  off.  The  water  came  within  two  fin- 
gers' breadth  of  the  edge  of  the  boat ;  and  when 
Stilling,  who  was  rather  tall,  moved  a  little,  he 
thought  it  would  have  upset,  and  then  the  water 
really  came  into  the  boat. 

This  sort  of  conveyance  was  dreadful  to  him* 
and  he  wished  himself  heartily  on  terra  firma: 
however,  in  order  to  pass  the  time,  he  entered 
into  conversation  with  his  little  fellow-traveller. 
He  heard,  with  astonishment,  that  this  youth 
was  the  son  of  a  rich  widow  in  H  ,  and  in- 
tended, just  as  he  sat  with  him,  to  travel  quite 
alone  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  in  order  to 
visit  his  brother  there.  Stilling  was  astonished 
above  measure,  and  asked  him  whether  his 
mother  had  consented  to  his  journey  7  "  By  n©> 
means,"  answered  the  boy;  "  [  went  away  frem-. 
her  secretly;  she  had  me  arrested  at  Mayence, 
but  I  entreated  her,  until  she  permitted  me  to 
travel,  and  sent  me  a  bill  for  eleven  hundred 
guilders.  I  have  an  uncle  at  Rotterdam,  to 
whom  I  am  addressed,  and  who  will  assist  me 
further."  Stilling  was  now  at  ease  with  respect 
to  the  young  man,  for  he  did  not  doubt  that  this 
uncle  would  have  secret  orders  to  detain  him  by 
force. 

During  this  conversation,  Stilling  felt  a  cold- 
ness at  his  feet,  and  on  looking  down,  found  that 
the  water  was  forcing  itself  into  the  boat,  and 
that  the  boatman  behind  him  was  bailing  it  out 


STILLING'S  WANDERINGS. 


79 


as  last  as  he  could.  He  now  became  seriously 
alarmed,  and  requested  peremptorily  to  be  set  on 
shore  on  the  Bingen  side,  saying  that  he  would 
gladly  give  them  the  money  agreed  upon,  and 
walk  to  Bingen  on  foot;  however,  the  boatmen 
refused  to  do  so,  and  continued  rowing.  Stilling 
therefore  also  betook  himself  to  baling,  and  with 
his  companion,  had  enough  to  do  to  keep  the 
boat  empty.  Meanwhile,  it  grew  dark ;  they  ap- 
proached the  rocks,  the  wind  rose,  and  a  storm 
seemed  coming  on.  The  youth  began  to  tremble 
in  the  boat,  and  Stilling  fell  into  a  deep  melan- 
choly, which  was  increased  on  perceiving  how 
the  boatmen  spoke  to  each  other  by  signs,  so  that 
they  certainly  intended  something  evil. 

It  was  now  quite  dark;  the  storm  approached, 
the  wind  blew  tempestuously,  and  it  lightened, 
so  that  the  boat  rolled  about,  and  its  destruction 
appeared  more  certain  every  moment.  Stilling 
turned  inwardly  to  God,  and  earnestly  prayed 
that  he  might  be  preserved,  particularly  if  Chris- 
tina should  be  still  alive;  lest  by  the  dreadful 
news  of  his  unfortunate  end,  she  should  breathe 
out  her  soul  in  sorrow.  But  if  she  had  already 
entered  into  her  rest,  he  resigned  himself  cheer- 
fully to  the  will  of  God.  Whilst  immersed  in 
these  reflections,  he  looked  up,  and  saw,  a  little 
way  before  him,  the  mast  of  a  yacht;  he  called 
out  with  a  loud  voice  for  help,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, one  of  the  sailors  was  on  deck  with  a  lan- 
tern, and  a  long  boat-hook.  The  boatmen  row- 
ed with  all  their  might  in  a  contrary  direction ; 
but  they  could  not  succeed,  for  as  they  were 
rowing  towards  the  shore,  the  wind  and  the 
stream  drove  them  to  the  yacht,  and  before  they 
were  aware,  the  hook  was  in  the  boat,  and  the 
boat  along-side  the  yacht.  Stilling  and  his  com- 
panion were  on  deck  with  their  portmanteaus, 
before  the  villains  of  boatmen  perceived  it.  The 
sailor  held  the  lantern  to  them,  and  began  to  ex- 
claim, "  Ha,  ha !  are  you  the  wicked  rascals 
that  drowned  two  travellers  down  yonder  a  few 
weeks  ago  1  Only  wait  till  I  come  again  to 
Mayence."  Stilling  threw  them  their  full  pay 
into  the  boat,  and  let  them  go.  How  happy  was 
he,  and  how  did  he  thank  God,  after  escaping  this 
danger!  They  then  went  down  into  the  cabin. 
The  men  were  from  Coblentz,  and  honest  people. 
They  all  supped  together;  and  the  two  travel- 
lers lay  down  on  the  luggage  that  was  there,  and 
slept  quietly  until  day-break,  when  they  found 
themselves  before  Bingen;  they  gave  the  sailors 
a  handsome  gratuity,  left  the  vessel,  and  saw  the 
barge  in  which  they  wished  to  sail  to  Cologne, 
moored  there  to  a  post. 

Not  far  from  the  shore  was  an  inn,  into  which 
Stilling  went  with  his  comrade,  and  entered  a 
room,  the  floor  of  which  was  strewed  with  straw. 
In  one  corner  lay  a  man  of  a  pleasing  and  re- 
spectable appearance;  at  a  little  distance  from 
him,  a  soldier;  a  step  further,  a  young  man, 
who  looked  as  like  a  drunken  student  as  one  egg 
does  to  another.  The  first  had  on  a  cotton  cap 
drawn  over  his  ears,  and  a  cloak  hanging  over 
his  shoulders,  whilst  his  Russian  frock-coat  was 
wrapped  round  his  feet.  The  second  had  bound 
his  pocket-handkerchief  about  his  head,  and 
thrown  his  soldier's  coat  over  him,  and  was  sno- 
ring aloud.  The  third  lay  with  his  bare  head  in 
the  straw,  with  an  English  frock  across  him  ;  he 
raised  himself,  stared  strangely  about  him,  like 
one  who  has  looked  too  deeply,  the  previous 
evening,  into  the  dram-glass.  Behind,  in  the 
corner,  lay  something,  which  it  was  impossible 
to  say  what  it  was,  until  it  began  to  move,  and 


look  forth  from  between  clothes  and  cushions; 
Stilling  then  perceived  that  it  was  some  sort  of 
a  female.  Stilling  contemplated  this  excellent 
'group  awhile  with  pleasure;  at  length  he  be- 
gan, "Gentlemen,  I  wish  you  all  a  happy  morn- 
ing, and  a  pleasant  journey  !"  All  three  raised 
themselves,  gaped,  rubbed  "their  eyes,  and  made 
other  such  motions  as  are  usual  on  awaking; 
they  looked,  and  saw  a  tall,  smiling  man,  and  a 
lively  boy  standing  by  him ;  they  then  all  sprang 
up,  returned  the  compliment,  each  after  his  fash- 
ion, and  thanked  him  in  a  friendly  manner. 

The  principal  gentleman  was  a  person  of  dig- 
nified and  noble  aspet ;  he  stepped  up  to  Stilling, 
and  said,  "  Whence  come  you,  so  early  V  Still- 
ing related  briefly  what  had  happened  to  him. 
With  a  noble  mien  the  gentleman  rejoined, 
"  You  are  certainly  not  in  business ;  at  least  you 
do  not  seem  to  me  to  be  so."  Stilling  was  sur- 
prised at  this  speech ;  he  smiled,  and  said,  "  You 
must  understand  physiognomy  well;  I  am  not  a 
merchant,  but  am  studying  medicine."  The 
strange  gentleman  looked  at  him  gravely,  and 
said,  "You  are  therefore  studying  in  the  midst 
of  your  days;  you  must  previously  have  had 
great  obstacles  to  surmount,  or  else  you  made 
your  choice  very  late."  Stilling  replied,  "  Both 
was  the  case  with  me.  I  am  a  child  of  Provi- 
dence; without  its  particular  guidance,  I  should 
either  have  been  a  tailor,  or  a  charcoal-burner." 
Stilling  spoke  this  with  emphasis  and  emotion, 
as  he  always  does  when  on  this  subject.  The 
unknown  gentleman  continued,  "You  will,  per- 
haps, relate  your  history  to  us,  on  the  way." 
"Yes,"  said  Stilling,  "most  willingly." 

The  former  now  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  said,  "  Be  you  who  you  may,  you  are  a  man 
after  my  own  heart." 

You  that  scourge  my  brother  Lavater  so  se- 
verely, whence  came  it,  that  this  noble  stranger 
became  fond  of  Stilling  at  first  sight  1 — and  what 
is  the  language,  and  which  are  the  letters  that 
he  knew  how  to  read  and  study  so  ably? 

The  student  by  this  time  had  recovered  his^ 
senses  ;  he  had  become  sober,  and  greeted  Still- 
ing, as  did  also  the  soldier.  Stilling  asked 
whether  the  gentlemen  would  take  breakfast? 
"Yes,"  said  they  all,  "we  will  drink  coffee." 
"So  will  I,"  rejoined  Stilling;  and  he  hastened 
out  of  the  room,  and  ordered  it.  On  returning, 
he  said,  "Can  I  have  the  honor  of  your  agreea- 
ble society  to  Cologne,  with  my  companion  V 
They  all  immediately  said,  "Yes,  it  will  cause 
us  much  pleasure."  Stilling  made  an  obei- 
sance. They  then  all  dressed  themselves  ;  and 
the  lady  behind,  very  shamefacedly,  also  put  on 
one  garment  after  another.  She  was  house- 
keeper to  a  clergyman  at  Cologne,  and  conse- 
quently very  careful  in  the  company  of  strange 
men;  which,  however,  was  quite  unnecessary 
for  she  was  too  ugly  to  be  an  object  of  their  at- 
tentions. 

(  ffee  was  now  brought  in ;  Stilling  placed 
himself  at  the  table,  drew  the  coffee-pot  towards 
him,  and  began  to  pour  out  the  beverage;  he 
was  cheerful,  and  inwardly  pleased  ;  but  where- 
fore, I  know  not.  The  strange  gentleman  placed 
himself  near  him,  and  clapped  him  again  on  the 
shoulder;  the  soldier  sat  down  on  the  other  side, 
and  :Jappe  1  him  upon  the  other  shoulder ;  whilst 
the  two  young  people  seated  themselves  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table,  and  the  lady  sat  be- 
hind, and  drank  her  coffee  alone. 

After  breakfast,  they  went  on  board  the  barge, 
and  Stilling  observed  that  no  one  knew  the 


80  HEINRICH 

strange  gentleman.  The  latter  urged  Stilling  to 
relate  the  history  of  his  life.  As  soon  as  they 
had  passed  the  Bingen  lock,  he  began  it,  and  re- 
lated every  thing,  without  concealing  the  small- 
est circumstance;  he  even  stated  with  sincerity 
the  particulars  of  his  betrothment,  and  the  reason 
of  his  present  journey.  The  unknown  gentle- 
man occasionally  dropped  a  tear,  as  did  also  the 
soldier,  and  both  wisiied  heartily  to  hear  where 
and  in  what  state  he  had  met  with  his  Christi- 
na. Both  were  now  intimate  with  him;  and  the 
soldier  then  began  to  relate  as  follows:  "I  was 
born  of  mean  parentage  in  the  duchy  of  Zwei- 
brücken, but  was  kept  diligently  at  my  learning, 
in  order,  by  knowledge,  to  make  up  for  what 
was  wanting  in  property.  After  I  left  school,  a 
person  in  office  employed  me  as  a  writer.  I  was 
with  him  some  years;  his  daughter  was  kind  to 
me,  and  we  became  such  good  friends,  that  we 
betrothed  ourselves  inviolably  to  each  other,  and 
bound  ourselves  never  to  marry,  if  any  obstacles 
were  laid  in  our  way.  My  employer  soon  dis- 
covered it,  and  I  was  sent  away;  however,  I 
still  found  half-an-hour  to  converse  with  my 
sweetheart  alone,  on  which  occasion  we  bound 
ourselves  to  each  other  still  more  firmly.  I  then 
went  to  Holland,  and  enlisted  for  a  soldier;  I 
very  often  wrote  to  the  young  lady,  but  never  re- 
ceived an  answer,  for  every  letter  was  intercept- 
ed. This  rendered  me  so  desperate  that  I  often 
sought  death,  but  still  I  had  always  an  abhor- 
rence of  suicide. 

"  Our  regi  ment  was  soon  after  sent  off  to  Amer- 
ica; the  cannibals  had  commenced  war  against 
the  Dutch ;  I  was  therefore  obliged  to  go  with  it. 
"We  arrived  at  Surinam,  and  my  company  was 
stationed  at  a  very  remote  fort.  I  was  still 
grieved  to  death,  and  wished  nothing  so  much  as 
that  a  ball  might  at  length  strike  me  dead;  all 
that  I  was  afraid  of,  was  being  taken  prisoner; 
for  who  likes  being  devoured!  I  therefore  con- 
tinually entreated  our  commander  to  give  me  a 
few  men  to  make  inroads  upon  the  cannibals; 
this  he  did,  and  as  we  were  always  fortunate,  he 
made  me  serjeant. 

"Once  I  commanded  fifty  men;  we  ranged 
through  a  wood,  and  went  to  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  the  fort;  all  of  us  having  our  mus- 
kets cocked,  under  our  arms.  Meantime,  a  shot 
was  fired  at  me;  the  ball  whistled  by  my  ear. 
After  a  short  pause,  it  occurred  again.  I  looked 
about,  and  saw  a  savage  reloading  his  gun.  I 
called  out  to  him  to  halt,  and  pointed  my  mus- 
ket at  him.  He  was  close  to  us;  he  stood  still, 
and  we  took  him.  This  savage  understood 
Dutch.  We  forced  him  to  betray  their  chief  to 
us,  and  take  us  to  his  retreat,  which  was  not  far 
from  where  we  were.  Here  we  found  a  troop 
of  savages  reposing.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to 
take  their  chief  prisoner  myself.  We  drove  as 
many  of  them  before  us  as  we  could  keep  to- 
gether; many,  however,  escaped. 

"  In  consequence  of  this  affair,  the  scuffle  with 
these  people  was  at  an  end.  I  was  made  lieu- 
tenant at  sea,  and  returned  with  my  regiment  to 
Holland.  I  obtained  a  furlough,  and  travelled 
home,  where  I  found  the  young  lady  as  I  had 
left  her.  Beinc?  furnished  with  both  money  and 
honor,  [  found  no  further  opposition  ;  we  were 
married,  and  have  now  five  children." 

This  tale  delighted  the  company.  The  lieu- 
tenant, as  well  as  Stilling,  would  now  gladly 
have  learned  the  unknown  g?ntlemnn'<  circum- 
stances, hut  he  smiled,  and  said,  "  Excuse  me  at 
present,  gentlemen.    I  dare  not." 


STILLING. 

Thus  the  day  passed  away  in  the  most  agreea- 
ble conversation.  Towards  evening,  a  storm 
came  on,  and  they  therefore  landed  at  Leiders- 
dorff,  not  far  from  Neuwied,  where  they  passed 
the  night.  The  dissolute  young  man  they  had 
with  them,  was  from  Strasburg,  and  had  run 
away  from  his  parents.  He  soon  made  ac- 
quaintance with  the  youth  who  was  passenger 
with  them.  Stilling  warned  the  latter,  very  se- 
riously, in  particular,  not  to  shew  the  bill  of  ex- 
change: but  it  was  of  no  avail.  He  af  terwards 
heard  that  the  boy  had  lost  all  his  money,  and 
the  Strasburger  had  disappeared. 

In  the  evening,  cn  retiring  to  rest,  it  was 
found  that  there  were  only  three  beds  for  five 
persons.  They  cast  lots  which  should  sleep  to- 
gether, when  it  fell  out  that  the  two  youths  were 
to  be  in  one  bed,  the  lieutenant  in  another,  and 
the  strange  gentleman  and  Stilling  were  to  have 
the  best.  Stilling  now  perceived  the  costly  valua- 
bles of  his  bedfellow,  which  indicated  something 
very  dignified.  He  could  not  make  this  mode 
of  travelling  agree  with  such  elevated  rank,  and 
began  to  suspect  all  was  not  right ;  however,  as 
he  observed  that  the  stranger  was  truly  devout, 
he  was  ashamed  of  his  suspicions,  and  was  sat- 
isfied. They  fell  asleep,  after  much  confidential 
conversation;  and  the  next  morning,  they  again 
pursued  their  voyage,  and  arrived  in  the  even- 
ing, safe  and  well,  at  Cologne.  The  stranger 
began  to  be  busy  there;  persons  of  consequence 
went  and  came  to  him  with  all  secrecy.  He 
provided  himself  with  a  couple  of  servants,  and 
purchased  a  quantity  of  jewellery  and  other 
things  of  the  kind.  They  all  lodged  together, 
at  the  same  inn ;  and  although  there  were  beds 
enough  in  the  house,  yet  the  stranger  requested 
to  sleep  again  with  Stilling,  to  which  he  readily 
assented. 

In  the  morning,  Stilling  hastened  to  take  his 
departure.  He  and  the  stranger  embraced  and 
kissed  each  other.  The  latter  said  to  him,  "  Your 
company,  sir,  has  afforded  me  uncommon  pleas- 
ure. Go  on  as  you  have  begun,  and  you  will 
rise  high  in  the  world.  I  shall  never  forget  you." 
Stilling  once  more  expressed  his  desire  to  know 
with  whom  he  had  travelled.  The  stranger 
smiled,  and  said,  "Read  the  newspapers  atten- 
tively when  you  arrive  at  home,  and  when  you 
find  the  name  of  *  *  *  remember  me." 

Stilling  now  set  out  on  foot ;  he  had  still  eight 
leagues  to  walk,  before  he  reached  Rasenheim. 
On  the  way,  he  reflected  on  the  stranger's  name; 
it  was  known  to  him,  and  yet  he  knew  not  who 
he  was.  A  week  after,  he  read  in  the  Lippstadt 
journal  the  following  article : 

"Cologne,  19th  May.— M.  von  *  *  *,  ?mbas- 
sador  of  the  court  of*  *  *  to  *  *  »,  passed  through 
this  place,  in  the  strictest  incognito,  on  his  way 
to  Holland,  in  order  to  transact  important  busi- 
ness." 

In  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday  after  Whitsuntide, 
Stilling  arrived  at  Rasenheim  ;  he  was  received 
with  a  thousand  demonstrations  of  joy.  But 
Christina  was  not  mistress  of  herself;  when 
Stilling  went  to  her,  she  pushed  him  away,  for 
she  knew  him  not.  He  went  for  a  little  while 
into  another  room,  and  in  the  meantime  she  re- 
covered herself,  and  it  was  told  her  that  Stilling 
was  arrived  She  could  now  no  longer  contain 
herself.  He  was  called,  and  came  to  her.  The 
most  lender  salutations  which  can  be  conceived 
took  place;  but  it  cost  Christina  dear;  she  fell 
into  the  most  violent  convulsions,  so  that  Still- 
ing, in  the  extremity  of  grief,  awaited  the  mortal 


S  T I  L  L  I  N  GS    W  ANDERING  S. 


SI 


blow  at  her  bed-side,  for  three  days  and  three 
nights.  Contrary  to  all  expectation,  she  recov- 
ered again ;  and  in  a  fortnight  was  so  much  bet- 
ter, that  she  sometimes  rose  fur  a  little  while  du- 
ring the  day. 

Selling's  alliance  with  Christina  was  now 
generally  known.  Their  best  friends  advised 
Friedenberg  to  let  them  be  married.  This  was 
assented  to ;  and  after  the  customary  formali- 
ties, the  marriage  ceremony  was  performed,  on 
the  17th  of  June,  1771,  at  the  bedside  of  his 
Christina. 

There  dwelt  in  Schönenthal  an  excellent  phy- 
sician, a  man  of  great  learning,  and  active  per- 
severance in  the  study  of  nature;  he  was  at  the 
same  time  devoid  of  jealousy,  and  possessed  the 
best  heart  in  the  world.  This  worthy  man  had 
heard  part  of  Stilling's  history  from  his  friend 
Troost.  Stilling  had  visited  him  several  times 
on  this  occasion,  and  requested  his  friendship 
and  instruction.  His  name  was  Dinkier,  and 
his  practice  was  extensive. 

Mr.  Dinkier,  therefore,  and  Mr.  Troost  were 
present  at  Stilling's  marriage;  and  on  this  occa- 
sion, they  both  proposed  to  him  to  settle  at  Schön- 
enthal, particularly  because  a  physician  had 
just  died  there.  Stilling  again  awaited  the  Di- 
vine direction,  and  therefore  said  he  would  think 
upon  it.  His  two  friends,  however,  gave  them- 
selves much  trouble  in  order  to  find  out  a  house 
for  him  in  Schönenthal;  and  they  succeeded  in 
doing  so,  even  before  Stilling  took  his  departure 
again  ;  the  doctor  also  promised  to  visit  his 
Christina  during  his  absence,  and  to  take  care 
of  her  health. 

Mr.  Friedenberg  now  likewise  found  a  source 
from  whence  he  might  procure  money;  and 
after  every  thing  was  arranged,  Stilling  prepared 
to  depart  again  for  Strasburg.  The  evening  be- 
fore the  melancholy  day,  he  went  up  to  his  wife's 
chamber.  He  found  her  lying  on  her  knees, 
with  folded  hands.  He  stepped  up  to  her,  and 
looked  at  her ;  but  she  was  stiff  as  a  log  of  wood. 
He  felt  her  pulse,  which  beat  quite  regularly. 
He  lifted  her  up,  spoke  to  her,  and  at  length 
brought  her  to  herself.  The  whole  night  was 
spent  in  continual  mourning  and  conflict. 

The  next  morning  Christina  continued  lying 
upon  her  face  in  the  bed.  She  took  her  husband 
round  the  neck,  and  wept  and  sobbed  incessant- 
ly. At  length  he  tore  himself  forcibly  from  her. 
His  two  brothers-in-law  accompanied  him  to 
Cologne.  The  next  day,  before  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  diligence,  a  messenger  arrived  from  Ra- 
senheim, and  brought  the  news  that  Christina 
had  become  tranquil. 

This  encouraged  Stilling;  he  felt  much  re- 
lieved, and  did  not  doubt  but  that  he  would  again 
meet  his  dear  and  faithful  Christina  in  good 
health.  He  commended  her  and  himself  into 
the  paternal  hands  of  God,  took  leave  of  his 
brothers-in-law,  and  set  off. 

In  seven  days  he  again  arrived  at  Strasburg, 
safe  and  well,  without  danger,  and  without  meet- 
ing with  any  thing  remarkable.  His  first  visit 
was  to  Goethe.  The  noble  young  man  started 
up  on  seeing  him,  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed 
him.  "Art  thou  here  again,  my  good  friend!" 
exclaimed  he;  "and  how  is  thy  intended?" 
Stilling  answered,  "  She  i>  my  intended  no  long- 
er; she  is  now  my  wife."  "Thou  hast  done 
well,"  replied  the  former;  "thou  art  an  excellent 
fellow."  They  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day 
entirely  in  cordial  conversation,  and  in  narrating 
what  had  occurred 
L 


The  well-known  and  gentle  Lenz  had  also  ar- 
rived there.  His  pleasing  writings  have  render- 
ed him  celebrated.  Goethe,  Lenz,  Lerse,  and 
Stilling,  now  composed  a  kind  of  circle,  in  which 
every  one  felt  happy  who  was  able  to  feel  what 
is  good  and  beautiful.  Stilling's  enthusiasm  in 
the  cause  of  religion  did  not  prevent  him  from 
cordially  loving  such  men  as  thought  more  freely 
than  himself,  if  they  were  only  not  scoffers. 

He  now  prosecuted  his  medical  studies  with 
all  diligence,  and  omitted  nothing  which  belongs 
to  that  science.  The  following  autumn,  Goethe 
disputed  publicly,  and  then  set  off  home.  He 
and  Stilling  entered  into  a  mutual  and  indisso- 
luble bond  of  friendship.  Lerse  also  took  his 
departure  for  Versailles,  but  Lenz  remained  at 
Strasburg. 

The  following  winter,  Stilling,  with  the  per- 
mission of  Professor  Spielmann,  read  a  lecture 
upon  chemistry,  completely  finished  his  anatom- 
ical studies,  went  through  some  things  a  second 
time,  and  then  wrote  his  Latin  treatise  lor  ex- 
amination without  the  assistance  of  any  one. 
This  he  dedicated,  by  special  permis  ion,  to  His 
Serene  Highness  the  Elector  of  the  Palatinate, 
his  gracious  prince;  he  then  passed  his  exam- 
ination, and  prepared  for  his  departure. 

Here  much  money  was  again  requisite,  and 
Stilling  wrote  home  on  the  subject.  Mr.  Fried- 
enberg was  startled  at  it;  at  the  dinner-table, 
he  thought  he  would  put  his  children  to  the  test. 
They  were  all  present,  great  and  small.  The 
father  began:  "Children,  your  brother-in-law 
requires  still  so  much  money;  what  think  you, 
would  you  send  it  to  him  if  you  had  it  1"  They 
ail  answered  unanimously,  "  Yes !  even  were  we 
to  take  off  our  clothes  and  pledge  them  !"  This 
moved  the  parents,  even  to  tears;  and  Stilling 
vowed  them  eternal  love  and  fidelity,  as  soon  as 
he  heard  of  it.  In  one  word,  a  remittance  arri- 
ved at  Strasburg,  which  was  sufficient. 

Stilling  now  disputed  with  credit  and  ap- 
plause. Mr.  Spiel  mann  acted  as  dean  on  the 
occasion.  On  giving  him  the  license,  after  the 
disputation  was  ended,  he  broke  out  into  com- 
mendations of  him,  and  said,  "  That  it  was  long 
since  he  had  given  the  license  to  any  one  with 
greater  pleasure  than  to  the  present  candidate; 
for  he  had  done  more,  in  such  a  short  time,  than 
many  others  in  five  or  six  years,"  &c.  Stilling 
was  still  upon  the  rostrum,  and  the  tears  stream- 
ed down  his  cheeks.  His  soul  overflowed  with 
thankfulness  towards  Him  who  had  brought  him 
out  of  the  dust,  and  given  him  a  vocation  in 
which,  in  accordance  with  his  own  inclinations, 
he  could  live  and  die  to  the  honor  of  God  and 
the  benefit  of  his  neighbours. 

On  the  24th  of  March,  1772,  he  took  leave  of 
all  his  friends  at  Strasburg,  and  set  off  home. 
At  Manheim  he  had  the  honor  of  presenting  his 
Latin  Treatise  to  his  Serene  Highness  the  Elec- 
toral Prince,  as  well  as  to  all  his  ministers.  He 
became  on  this  occasion,  correspondent  of  the 
Palatinate  Society  of  Sciences,  and  then  travel- 
led to  Cologne,  where  Mr.  Friedenberg  met  him 
with  every  expression  of  joy ;  his  brothers-in- 
law  also  met  him  on  the  way,  on  horseback.  On 
the  5th  of  April  he  arrived,  in  the  company  of 
the  friends  above-mentioned,  at  Rasenheim.  His 
Christina  was  up-stairs  in  her  room.  She  lay 
with  her  face  upon  the  table,  and  wept  aloud. 
Stilling  pressed  her  to  his  breast,  embraced,  and 
kissed  her.  He  asked  her  why  she  wept.  "Oh," 
answered  she,  "I  am  weeping  because  I  have 
not  power  sufficient  to  thank  God  for  all  his 


82  HEINRICH 

goodness."  "  Thou  art  in  the  right,  my  angel !" 
rejoined  Stilling;  "but  our  whole  life,  in  time 
and  in  eternity,  shall  be  made  up  of  thanksgiv- 
ing. However,  rejoice  now,  that  the  Lord  has 
helped  us  hitherto." 

On  the  1st  of  May,  he  removed,  with  his 
spouse,  into  the  house  taken  for  him  at  Schönen- 
thal,  and  began  to  exercise  his  vocation.  Doc- 
tor Dinkier  and  Mr.  Troost  were  the  faithful  com- 
panions of  his  life  and  labours  there. 

On  the  first  medical  promotion  at  Strasburg, 
he  received,  through  a  notary,  his  doctor's  di- 
ploma, and  this  was  the  conclusion  of  his  aca- 
demical course.  His  family,  in  the  province  of 
Salen,  heard  all  this  with  rapturous  joy ;  and 
Wilhelm  Stilling  wrote,  in  his  first  letter  to  him 
at  Schönenthal,  "It  is  enough  that  my  son  Jo- 


STILLING. 

seph  liveth ;  I  must  go  down  and  see  him  before 
I  die." 


Unto  the  tnrone  of  Majesty  supreme, 

With  grateful  heart  I  now  draw  near  ; 
And  mingle  with  the  seraph's  lofty  theme 

My  humble  song  of  praise  and  prayer. 
Although  but  dust,  and  form'd  of  earthly  clay — 

Although  I  feel  both  sin  and  death — 
Yet  to  a  seraph's  height  aspire  I  may, 

Since  Christ  for  me  resigned  his  breath. 
Words  are  not  thanks — no,  such  like  noble  deeds 

As  Christ's  own  precedent  approves, 
Mingled  with  sufferings'  and  afflictions'  seeds, 

An  incense,  which  th'  Almighty  loves  ;  * 
Be  these  my  thanks  ;  and  may  my  stedfast  will 

Each  hour  be  dedicate  to  Thee  ; 
And  grant,  I  always  may  this  wish  fulfil, 

E'en  till  I  reach  eternity  ! 


HEINRICH  STILLIN 

CHAPTER  VII. 

On  the  1st  of  May,  1772,  in  the  afternoon, 
Stilling  proceeded  with  his  Christina  on  foot  to 
Schönenthal,  and  Mr.  Friedenberg  accompanied 
them.  All  nature  was  still,  the  sky  was  serene, 
the  sun  shone  over  hill  and  dale,  and  its  warm 
and  genial  rays  unfolded  herbs,  and  leaves,  and 
flowers.  Stilling  contemplated  his  present  cir- 
cumstances and  prospects  with  delight,  and  felt 
assured  that  his  sphere  of  operation  would  be- 
come wide  and  comprehensive.  Christina  in- 
dulged the  same  hope  ;  whilst  Mr.  Friedenberg 
sometimes  walked  on  alone,  or  lingered  behind, 
smoking  his  pipe  ;  and  when  anything  relating 
to  domestic  economy  occurred  to  him,  he  ex- 
pressed it  briefly  and  emphatically,  believing 
that  such  practical  maxims  would  be  useful  to 
them,  as  they  were  now  about  to  keep  house. 
On  arriving  at  the  eminence  from  which  they 
could  survey  the  whole  of  Schönenthal,  an  in- 
describable sensation  thrilled  through  Stilling 
which  he  could  not  account  for ;  inwardly  sor- 
rowful and  joyful  by  turns,  he  prayed  in  spirit, 
and  descended  the  hill  with  his  companions  in 
silence. 

This  town  lies  in  a  very  pleasant  valley,  which 
runs  in  a  straight  line  from  east  to  west,  and  is 
intersected  by  a  small  river  called  the  Wupper. 
In  summer,  the  whole  valley,  for  the  space  of 
two  leagues,  to  the  borders  of  the  Mark,  is  seen 
covered  with  linen-yarn,  as  with  snow,  whilst 
the  bustle  of  a  busy  and  prosperous  population 
is  indescribable.  This  valley  is  filled  with  iso- 
lated houses ;  one  garden  and  orchard  borders 
on  another,  and.  the  walk  up  the  valley  is  en- 
chanting. Stilling  dreamed  of  future  happiness  ; 
and  thus  dreaming,  he  entered  the  noisy  town. 

In  a  few  minutes,  his  father-in-law  conducted 
him  to  the  house  which  Dinkier  and  Troost  had 
selected  and  hired  for  him  ;  it  stood  back  a  lit- 
tle from  the  high-road,  near  the  Wupper,  and 
had  a  small  garden  attached  to  it,  with  a  beau- 
tiful prospect  of  the  southern  hills.  The  servant 
girl,  who  had  preceded  them  a  few  days,  had 
cleaned  every  thing  thoroughly,  and  arranged 
their  little  stock  of  household  furniture. 

After  sufficiently  surveying  and  giving  his 
opinion  upon  every  thing,  Mr  Friedenberg  took 
his  leave  with  many  cordial  wishes  for  their 
happiness,  and  walked  back  again  to  Rasen- 


G'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 

heim.  The  young  married  couple  then  stood! 
and  looked  at  each  other  with  tearful  eyes. 
.Their  whole  stock  of  furniture  was  very  limit- 
ed ;  six  wooden  chairs,  a  table  and  bed  for  them- 
selves, and  one  for  the  servant,  a  couple  of  dish- 
es, six  pewter  plates,  a  few  pans  for  cooking, 
&c,  together  with  the  most  needful  linen,  and 
a  very  bare  supply  of  clothes,  was  all  that  could 
be  found  in  the  house,  though  large  ;  this  furni- 
ture was  divided  hither  and  thither,  and  yet  the 
apartments  seemed  all  indescribably  empty. 
The  third  story  was  never  thought  of ;  it  was 
void,  and  continued  so. 

And  then  the  cash  !    Their  funds  consisted 
altogether  of  five  rix-dollars  in  ready  money, 
and  that  was  all  !    Really,  really,  it  required 
great  confideace  in  the  paternal  providence  of 
God  in  order  to  sleep  quietly  the  first  night ; 
and  yet  Stilling  and  his  consort  slept  well,  for 
they  did  not  doubt  for  a  moment  that  God  would 
provide  for  them.    His  reason,  however,  occa- 
sionally tormented  him  much ;  but  he  gave  no 
ear  to  it,  and  simply  believed.    The  next  day  he 
paid  his  visits  ;  but  Christina  paid  none,  for  her 
intention  was  to  live  as  unknown  and  privately 
as  propriety  would  permit.    Stilling  now  found 
a  great  difference  in  the  behaviour  of  his  future 
fellow-citizens  and  neighbours.    His  pietistic 
friends,  who  had  formerly  received  him  as  an 
angel  of  God,  and  embraced  him  with  the  warm- 
est salutations  and  blessings,  stood  at  a  dis- 
tance, merely  bowed,  and  were  cold  ;  but  this 
was  no  wonder  :  for  he  now  wore  a  wig  with  a 
bag  to  it ;  formerly  it  was  only  round,  and  pow- 
dered a  little ;  besides,  he  wore  ruffles  to  his 
shirt,  at  the  neck  and  hands,  and  was  therefore 
become  a  gentleman,  and  a  man  of  the  world. 
They  attempted  occasionally  to  speak  with  him 
on  religion,  in  their  usual  way ;  but  he  express- 
ed himself  in  a  friendly  and  serious  manner,  to 
the  effect  that  he  had  talked  long  enough  about  du- 
ties; he  would  now  be  silent  and  practise  them  ;  and 
as  he  no  longer  attended  any  of  their  meetings, 
they  regarded  him  as  a  backslider,  and  spoke  of 
him  on  every  occasion  in  an  unkind  and  lament- 
ing tone.    How  much  is  this  mode  of  proceed- 
ing to  be  deprecated  in  such  characters,  other- 
wise so  worthy  and  excellent !   I  willingly  con- 
fess that  some  of  the  most  upright  people  and 
the  best  of  Christians  are  to  be  found  amongst 
them ;  but  thev  ruin  every  thing  by  their  love 


STIRLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


83 


of  judging.  He  that  is  not  precisely  of  one 
mind  with  them,  nor  trifles,  and  affects  religious 
sensibility  with  them,  is  of  no  value  in  their 
eyes,  and  is  regarded  as  unregenerate  ;  they  do 
not  reflect  that  the  mere  profession  of  religion 
is  unavailing,  and  that  the  individual  must  let 
his  light  shine  by  his  good  works.  In  short, 
Stilling  was  not  only  entirely  forsaken  by  his 
>  old  friends,  but  even  calumniated;  nor  did  they 
scarcely  ever  employ  him  as  a  physician.  The 
majority  of  the  rich  merchants  received  him 
merely  with  politeness,  as  a  man  who  had  no 
property,  and  whom  it  was  necessary,  at  first 
sight,  to  impress  with  the  idea,  "  Never  have 
the  heart  to  ask  money,  help,  or  support  from 
me ;  I  will  reward  thy  services  as  they  deserve, 
and  nothing  more."  However,  he  likewise  found 
some  worthy  men,  and  true  philanthropists, 
whose  looks  bespoke  a  noble  mind. 

All  this  had  a  depressing  effect  upon  Stilling  ; 
hitherto  he  had  dined  at  a  table  well  provided 
by  others,  or  else  had  been  able  to  pay  for  it 
himself ;  the  world  around  him  had  had  little 
reference  to  him  ;  and,  with  all  his  sufferings, 
his  sphere  of  operation  had  been  inconsiderable. 
But  now,  he  saw  himself  all  at  once  placed  in 
a  vast,  splendid,  low-bred,  avaricious,  mercan- 
tile world,  with  which  he  did  not  harmonize  in 
the  least,  where  the  learned  were  only  esteem- 
ed in  proportion  to  their  wealth — where  sensi- 
bility, reading,  and  learning,  were  ludicrous — 
and  where  he  alone  was  honored  who  made 
much  money.  Hence,  he  was  like  a  very  small 
light,  at  which  no  one  would  think  of  lingering, 
much  less  of  warming  himself.  Stilling  there- 
fore began  to  feel  melancholy. 

Meanwhile,  two  days,  and  even  three  days, 
passed,  before  any  one  came  who  needed  his 
assistance ;  and  the  five  rix-dollars  melted  away 
rapidly.  But  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day, 
a  woman  came  from  Dornfeld,  a  small  town 
that  lies  about  three-quarters  of  a  league  to  the 
east  of  Schönenthal.  On  entering  the  door,  she 
cried  out,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  Oh,  doctor, 
we  have  heard  that  you  are  a  very  able  man, 
and  know  a  good  deal ;  a  very,  very  great  mis- 
fortune has  happened  at  our  house,  and  we  have 
employed  all  the  doctors  far  and  near,  but  none 
of  them  can  do  any  thing  for  him  :  I  am  there- 
fore come  to  you  ; — Oh,  help  my  poor  child  !" 

"  Gracious  heaven  !"  thought  Stilling  to  him- 
self ;  "  the  first  patient  I  get  has  put  to  shame 
all  the  experienced  physicians  ;  what  shall  I, 
who  am  so  inexperienced,  be  able  to  effect  ?" 
He  asked,  however,  what  was  the  matter  with 
the  child. 

The  poor  woman  related,  with  many  tears, 
the  history  of  her  sick  child,  of  which  the  fol- 
lowing were  the  principal  circumstances  : — 

The  boy  was  eleven  years  old,  and  had  had 
the  measles  about  a  quarter  of  a  year  before  ; 
through  the  carelessness  of  his  nurse,  he  had 
been  exposed  too  soon  to  the  cold  air ;  the  in- 
flammatory matter  had  retired  into  the  brain, 
and  produced  very  singular  results.  For  the 
last  six  weeks,  the  patient  had  lain  in  bed  with- 
out consciousness  or  feeling;  he  did  not  move 
a  limb  of  his  whole  body,  with  the  exception  of 
his  right  arm,  which,  day  and  night,  incessantly 
vibrated,  like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock  ;  his  life 
had  been  hitherto  supported  by  the  injection  of 
thin  soups,  but  no  medicine  had  been  able  to 


produce  any  effect.  The  woman  concluded  her 
copious  account  with  expressing  her  suspicion 
whether  the  child  might  not  possibly  be  be- 
witched. 

"No,"  answered  Stilling,  "the  child  is  not 
bewitched  ;  I  will  come  and  see  him."  The 
woman  wept  again,  and  said,  "  Oh,  doctor,  do 
come  !"  and  with  that  she  went  away. 

Doctor  Stilling  paced  his  room  with  rapid 
strides.  "Who  can  do  any  thing  in  such  a 
case1?"  thought  he.  "There  is  no  doubt  that 
all  possible  means  have  been  used  (for  the  peo- 
ple were  wealthy);  what  remains,  therefore, 
for  a  beginner  like  myself!"  With  these  mel- 
ancholy thoughts,  he  took  up  his  hat  and  stick, 
and  set  out  for  Dornfeld  ;  praying  to  God,  the 
whole  way,  for  light,  and  blessing,  and  power. 
He  found  the  child  exactly  as  its  mother  had 
described  ;  its  eyes  were  closed,  it  fetched 
breath  regularly,  and  the  right  arm  moved,  as 
though  it  beat  time,  from  the  breast  towards  the 
right  side.  He  sat  down,  looked  and  consider- 
ed, inquiring  into  all  the  circumstances  ;  and 
on  going  away,  ordered  the  woman  to  come  to 
Schönenthal  to  him  in  an  hour,  telling  her  he 
would  reflect  upon  this  strange  case  during  the 
time,  and  prescribe  something.  On  his  way 
home,  he  thought  of  what  he  could  order  that 
might  be  useful ;  at  length  it  occurred  to  him, 
that  Mr.  Spielmann  had  commended  "  Dippel's 
animal  oil"  as  a  remedy  for  convulsions  ;  he 
was  the  more  glad  of  this  medicament,  for  he 
felt  assured  that  none  of  the  physicians  had 
used  it,  because  it  was  no  longer  in  fashion. 
He  therefore  decided  upon  it ;  and  as  soon  as 
he  came  home,  he  prescribed  a  mixture,  of 
which  this  oil  was  the  basis  ;  the  woman  came 
and  fetched  it.  Scarcely  had  two  hours  elapsed, 
when  a  messenger  arrived,  who  requested  Still- 
ing to  return  immediately  to  his  patient ;  he 
hastened  to  him,  and  on  entering  the  house,  he 
saw  the  boy  sitting  up  in  the  bed,  happy  and 
well ;  and  was  told  that  scarcely  had  the  child 
swallowed  a  teaspoonful  of  the  mixture,  before 
he  opened  his  eyes,  awoke,  and  asked  for  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  the  arm  had  become  still  and 
just  like  the  other.  It  is  impossible  to  describe 
how  the  good  doctor  felt  on  this  occasion  ;  the 
house  was  full  of  people,  desirous  of  seeing  the 
miracle  ;  every  one  regarded  him  with  delight 
as  an  angel  of  God.  Every  one  blessed  him  ; 
but  the  child's  parents  wept  tears  of  joy,  and 
knew  not  what  they  should  do  for  the  able  phy- 
sician. Stilling  thanked  God  inwardly  in  his 
heart,  and  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  of  de- 
light ;  however,  he  was  heartily  ashamed  of  the 
praise  bestowed  upon  him,  which  he  had  so  lit- 
tle merited  ;  for  the  whole  cure  was  neither  the 
result  of  plan  nor  reflection,  but  mere  accident, 
or  rather  Divine  and  paternal  providence. 

When  reflecting  on  the  whole  affair,  he  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  laughing  aloud  at  hearing 
them  speak  of  his  stupendous  ability,  being  con- 
scious how  little  he  had  done  in  the  matter ; 
however,  prudence  required  him  to  be  silent, 
and  to  take  every  thing  for  granted,  although 
without  ascribing  vain  glory  to  himself ;  he 
therefore  prescribed  purgatives  and  tonic  med- 
icines, and  healed  the  child  completely. 

Here  I  cannot  restrain  the  impulse  of  my 
heart  from  communicating  to  young  physicians 
a  warning  and  an  admonition,  which  is  the  re- 


84  HEINRICH 

suit  of  much  experience,  and  which  may  be  like- 
wise useful  to  the  public,  who  are  obliged  to 
confide  themselves  to  such  inexperienced  per- 
sons. When  the  young  man  goes  to  the  uni- 
versity, his  first  idea  is,  to  finish  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible ;  for  studying  costs  money,  and  he  would 
gladly  soon  be  able  to  support  himself.  The 
most  needful  auxiliary  sciences,  such  as  the 
knowledge  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages, 
Mathematics,  Physics,  Chemistry,  and  Natural 
Philosophy,  are  neglected,  or,  at  least,  not  suf- 
ficiently studied ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  the 
time  is  spent  in  a  variety  of  subtle  and  sophisti- 
cal anatomical  disquisitions ;  the  individual  then 
attends  the  other  lectures  mechanically,  and  im- 
mediately hastens  to  the  sick-bed.  There,  how- 
ever, every  thing  is  found  to  be  very  different ; 
the  man  knows  little  or  nothing  of  the  secret 
course  of  nature,  and  yet  ought  to  know  every 
thing  ;  the  young  doctor  is  ashamed  to  confess 
his  ignorance ;  he  therefore  talks  a  great  deal 
of  high-sounding  nonsense,  which  makes  the 
ears  of  the  experienced  practitioner  to  tingle; 
then  sits  down,  and  prescribes  something,  ac- 
cording to  his  fancy.  Now,  if  he  is  still  in  any 
degree  conscientious,  he  makes  choice  of  rem- 
edies which,  at  least,  cannot  injure ;  but  how 
often  is  the  most  important  crisis  by  this  means 
neglected,  in  which  a  beneficial  effect  might 
have  been  produced  !  and  besides  all  this,  the 
individual  often  thinks  he  has  prescribed  some- 
thing of  a  harmless  nature,  not  considering  that 
injury  may  nevertheless  be  done  by  it,  because  he 
is  ignorant  of  the  real  character  of  the  disease. 

It  is  therefore  imperative  upon  young  stu- 
dents, after  attaining  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
the  auxiliary  sciences,  to  study  Surgery  to  the 
very  bottom  ;  for  the  latter  contains  the  most 
certain  principles  of  knowledge,  from  whence, 
by  analogy,  internal  diseases  may  be  ascertain- 
ed. They  ought  then  to  study  nature  at  a  sick- 
bed, with  the  professor  of  practical  medicine, 
who  should,  however,  himself  be  a  good  physi- 
cian ;  and  then,  at  length,  enter  upon  this  high- 
ly important  office  ;  but  mark  !  only  under  the 
superintendence  of  an  able  practitioner  !  Alas  ! 
where  is  there  a  greater  deficiency,  than  in  the 
arragements  of  the  medical  establishment,  and 
in  the  regulations  appertaining  to  it] 

This  first  cure  made  a  great  noise  ;  the  blind, 
the  lame,  the  crippled,  and  incurables  of  every 
kind,  now  came  for  his  assistance  ;  but  Dippel's 
Oil  did  not  avail  for  all,  and  Stilling  had  not  yet 
found  any  such  specific  for  all  diseases.  The 
concourse  of  people  to  him  therefore  diminish- 
ed ;  but  he  came  into  a  regular  practice,  which 
procured  him  a  bare  subsistence.  Meanwhile, 
his  competitors  began  to  attack  him;  for  they 
looked  upon  the  cure  as  a  piece  of  quackery,  and 
made  the  public  suppose  that  he  was,  and  would 
be,  a  mere  charlatan.  This  unfounded  report 
reached  the  medical  board  at  Rüsselstein,  and 
caused  the  members  of  it  to  entertain  prejudi- 
cial ideas  of  him ;  he  was  required  to  appear 
before  them  for  examination,  and  was  rather 
severely  handled  ;  however,  he  stood  firm,  not- 
withstanding all  the  attempts  at  chicanery,  so 
that  no  one  could  establish  any  thing  against 
him;  he  obtained  therefore  the  diploma  of  a 
privileged  physician. 

In  the  beginning  of  that  summer,  Stilling 
made  it  known  that  he  would  read  a  lecture  on 


STILLING. 

Physiology  to  young  surgeons.  Messieurs  Dink- 
ier and  Troost  attended  the  lecture  diligently, 
and  from  that  time  he  has  read  lectures  almost 
without  interruption.  When  he  spoke  in  pub- 
lic, he  was  in  his  element  ;  in  speaking,  his 
ideas  developed  themselves  so  fast  that  he  oft- 
en could  not  find  words  enough  to  express  them 
all  ;  his  whole  existence  felt  reanimated,  and 
became  life  and  delineation.  I  do  not  say  this 
for  the  sake  of  boasting  ;  God  knows,  it  was  He 
who  gave  him  the  talent ;  Stilling  had  done 
nothing  towards  it.  His  friends  often  foreboded 
he  would  become  a  public  lecturer;  at  which 
predictions  he  sighed  within  himself,  and  wish- 
ed it  might  be  so  ;  but  saw  no  way  before  him 
how  to  ascend  that  step. 

Scarcely  had  Stilling  spent  a  few  weeks  in 
such  occupations,  when  all  at  once  the  heavy 
hand  of  the  Almighty  again  drew  forth  the  rod, 
and  wounded  him  severely.  Christina  begarv 
to  grow  melancholy  and  ill ;  by  degrees  her 
dreadful  fits  returned  in  all  their  violence ;  she 
became  subject  to  tedious  and  painful  convul- 
sions, which  often  lasted  for  hours  together, 
and  contracted  her  poor  weak  body  in  such  a 
manner,  that  it  was  pitiful  to  behold.  The  con- 
vulsions often  threw  her  out  of  bed  ;  during 
which  she  shrieked  so  dreadfully  that  she  might 
have  been  heard  to  the  distance  of  several 
houses  in  the  neighbourhood.  This  lasted  for 
some  weeks,  when  her  state  became  evidently 
more  dangerous.  Stilling  looked  upon  her  as 
perfectly  hectic,  for  she  had  really  all  the  symp- 
toms of  a  consumption  ;  he  now  began  to  de- 
spair, and  to  wrestle  with  God  ;  all  his  powers 
succumbed,  and  this  new  species  of  sorrow — 
that  of  losing  a  wife  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved 
— inflicted  deep  wounds  on  his  heart.  To  this 
were  joined  daily  new  cares  respecting  his 
maintenance  in  a  place  of  trade,  like  Schönen- 
thal ;  he  had  no  credit ;  besides  which,  every 
thing  was  very  dear,  and  the  manner  of  living 
expensive.  Every  morning,  on  awaking,  the 
question  recurred  to  him  with  redoubled  force, 
M  How  shall  I  find  subsistence  this  day]"  for 
the  case  was  very  rare  that  he  had  money 
enough  for  two  days.  His  experience  and  his 
trials  of  faith,  indeed,  stood  before  his  eyes  ; 
but  then  he  daily  saw  stiL'  more  pious  people, 
who  struggled  with  the  bitterest  want,  and  had 
scarcely  bread  enough  to  satisfy  their  hunger  ; 
therefore,  what  else  could  console  him,  but  an 
unconditional  surrender  of  himself  to  the  mercy 
of  his  heavenly  Father,  who  would  not  suffer 
him  to  be  tempted  beyond  his  ability] 

To  this  was  added  another  circumstance ;  he 
had  adopted  the  maxim,  that  every  Christian, 
and  particularly  a  physician,  ought  to  be  benev- 
olen'  without  reflection,  merely  in  confidence 
upon  God  ;  in  consequence  of  this,  he  committed 
the  great  mistake  of  frequently  having  medicine 
made  up  at  the  apothecary's  on  his  own  account, 
for  those  he  visited,  who  were  unable  to  pay  ;  by 
which  he  plunged  himself  into  debt,  which  sub- 
sequently caused  him  much  sorrow  ;  nor  was  he 
careful,  on  such  occasions,  to  reserve  the  mon- 
ey he  had  been  receiving.  I  cannot  say  that  in 
such  instances  an  inward  benevolent  impulse 
alone  guided  his  actions.  No  ;  there  was  also  a 
certain  thoughtlessness  and  disregard  for  money 
connected  with  it,  of  which  weakness  of  char- 
acter Stilling  at  that  time  was  ignorant,  but  at 


"'Si  ILLINGS  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


85 


length  became  sufficiently  acquainted  with  it, 
through  many  grievous  trials.  It  is  no  wonder 
that  in  this  manner  his  practice  became  very 
extensive  ;  he  had  more  than  enough  to  do,  but 
his  labors  brought  him  in  very  little.  Christina 
also  felt  grieved  at  it,  for  she  was  very  careful  ; 
and  he  said  nothing  to  her  when  he  gave  away 
any  thing,  lest  she  should  reproach  him  ;  for  he 
felt  assured  that  God  would  bless  him  for  it  in 
some  other  way.  In  other  respects,  they  were 
both  very  moderate  in  food  and  raiment ;  and 
contented  themselves  with  that  which  the  ex- 
treme of  propriety  required. 

Christina  grew  worse,  and  Stilling  thought  he 
should  certainly  lose  her.  One  forenoon,  as  he 
sat  by  her  bed  and  waited  upon  her,  her  breath 
all  at  once  began  to  cease — she  stretched  out 
her  arms  towards  her  husband,  gave  him  a 
piercing  look,  and  breathed  out  the  words, 
44  Farewell — angel — Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me 
— I  am  dying  !"  With  that  her  eyes  became 
fixed,  all  the  appearance  of  death  showed  itself 
in  her  face,  her  respiration  ceased,  she  was  con- 
vulsed, and  Stilling  stood  like  a  poor  criminal 
before  his  executioner.  At  length  he  threw 
himself  upon  her,  kissed  her,  and  spoke  conso- 
ling words  into  her  ear ;  but  she  was  insensi- 
ble. The  moment,  however,  that  Stilling  was 
about  to  call  for  help,  she  came  again  to  her- 
self; she  was  much  better,  and  evidently  re- 
lieved. Stilling  had  not  yet  by  any  means  suf- 
ficient medical  experience  to  know  all  the  parts 
which  this  dreadful  hysteric  evil  is  wont  to  act 
in  such  a  weakly  and  irritable  frame  ;  hence  it 
was,  that  he  was  so  often  alarmed  and  terrified. 
Christina  did  not  die  under  this  attack,  but  she 
remained  dangerously  ill,  and  the  dreadful  par- 
oxysms continued  ;  hence  his  life  was  a  con- 
stant torture,  and  every  day  had  new  torments 
in  readiness  for  himself  and  his  consort. 

Just  in  this  severe  time  of  trial,  there  came  a 
messenger,  from  a  place  which  was  five  leagues 
distant  from  Schönenthal,  to  conduct  him  to  a 
rich  and  respectable  individual,  who  was  con- 
fined by  a  lingering  illness.  Painful  as  it  was 
to  him  to  leave  his  own  wife  in  such  a  melan- 
choly condition,  yet  he  felt  as  deeply  the  du- 
ties of  his  office  ;  and  as  the  state  of  the  pa- 
tient above-mentioned  was  not  dangerous,  he 
sent  the  messenger  away  again,  promising  to 
come  the  next  day.  He  therefore  arranged  his 
affairs  so  as  to  be  able  to  be  absent  for  a  day. 
At  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  he  sent  out  the 
servant-girl  to  fetch  a  bottle  of  Malaga  wine, 
which  was  intended  for  Christina's  refreshment; 
if  she  took  only  a  few  drops  of  it,  she  felt  her- 
self invigorated.  Christina's  younger  sister,  a 
girl  of  thirteen  years  of  age,  was  at  that  time 
residing  with  them  on  a  visit  to  her  sister,  and 
she  went  out  with  the  servant  to  fetch  the 
wine.  Stilling  seriously  enjoined  the  latter  to 
return  immediately,  because  there  were  still 
several  things  to  do,  and  he  had  to  prepare  for 
his  journey  on  the  morrow ;  however,  she  did 
not  do  so ;  the  fine  summer  evening  seduced 
the  thoughtless  girl  to  take  a  walk  ;  and  it  was 
nine  o'clock  before  she  came  home.  Stilling 
had  consequently  his  wife's  bed  to  make,  and 
other  things  to  do  himself.  Both  were  there- 
fore justly  irritated.  As  the  girl  entered  the 
door,  Stilling  began,  in  a  gentle  but  serious  tone, 
to  admonish  her,  and  remind  her  of  her  duty  ; 


the  girl  was  silent,  and  went  down-stairs  with 
Miss  Friedenberg  into  the  kitchen.  After  a  lit- 
tle while,  they  both  heard  a  hollow,  terrible,  and 
dreadful  sound,  and  at  the  same  time,  the  sis- 
ter calling  out  for  help.  The  gloom  of  the  twi- 
light, together  with  this  appalling  noise,  produ- 
ced such  an  effect,  that  Stilling  himself  grew 
cold  through  his  whole  frame,  while  his  sick 
wife  shrieked  out  with  terror.  Meanwhile, 
Stilling  ran  down  stairs,  in  order  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  He  found  the  servant-girl 
standing  by  the  sink,  with  dishevelled  hair,  and, 
like  a  lunatic,  emitting  this  horrible  sound, 
whilst  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and  looking  like 
a  fury. 

Stilling  now  felt  exasperated  ;  he  seized  the 
girl  by  the  arm,  turned  her  about,  and  said  to 
her,  energetically,  44  What  now  !  what  are  you 
doing  1  what  Satan  impels  you  to  trouble  me 
thus,  in  my  distressing  circumstances?  have 
you  no  human  feeling]"  But  this  was  pouring 
oil  into  the  fire  ;  she  shrieked  convulsively,  tore 
herself  from  him,  and  fell  into  the  most  dread- 
ful epileptic  fit.  At  the  same  moment,  he  heard 
Christina  likewise  screaming  dreadfully  ;  he 
ran  up-stairs,  and  found,  in  the  twilight,  his 
wife  in  the  most  appalling  condition  ;  she  had 
thrown  off  all  the  bed-clothes  and  bedding,  and 
was  writhing  convulsively  in  the  straw  beneath ; 
all  recollection  was  fled,  she  gnashed  her  teeth, 
and  the  convulsions  drew  her  head  backwards  to 
her  heels.  The  waves  of  affliction  now  rolled 
over  his  head  ;  he  ran  out  to  his  next  neigh- 
bours and  old  friends,  and  called  aloud  for  help 
most  piteously.  Persons  of  both  sexes  came, 
and  exerted  themselves  to  bring  the  two  suffer- 
ers again  to  themselves ;  they  succeeded  first 
with  the  servant-girl ;  she  came  to  herself 
again,  and  was  taken  to  bed  ;  but  Christina  re- 
mained for  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  same  mel- 
ancholy condition.  She  then  became  quiet ; 
her  bed  was  made,  and  she  was  put  into  it, 
where  she  lay  like  one  asleep,  entirely  without 
consciousness,  and  unable  to  move.  The  day 
now  dawned ;  two  females  from  the  neigh- 
bourhood, together  with  the  sister,  continued 
with  Christina ;  and  Stilling  rode,  with  the 
heaviest  heart  in  the  world,  to  visit  his  patient. 
On  returning  in  the  evening,  he  found  his  wife 
in  the  same  state  of  stupefaction,  and  she  only 
came  to  herself  again  the  next  morning. 

He  now  sent  away  the  malicious  servant,  and 
hired  another.  The  storm  passed  over  for  this 
time  ;  and  Christina  got  well  again.  The  fol- 
lowing autumn,  she  was  again  troubled  with  an 
ulcerated  breast,  which  was  the  cause  of  many 
painful  occurrences ;  though,  with  this  excep- 
tion, she  was  very  well  and  cheerful. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Stilling's  domestic  life  had  commenced  pain- 
fully and  sorrowfully  in  every  respect.  There 
was  nothing  pleasing  in  his  whole  situation,  ex- 
cept the  tenderness  with  which  Christina  treat- 
ed him  ;  both  loved  each  other  cordially,  and 
their  intercourse  was  a  pattern  to  married  peo- 
ple. However,  the  excessive  affection  of  his 
wife  sometimes  occasioned  him  very  bittpr  mo- 
ments, for  it  frequently  degenerated  into  jeal- 


• 


86  HEINRICH 

ousy ;  but  this  weakness  entirely  vanished  in 
the  course  of  a  year  or  two.  In  other  respects, 
Stilling's  whole  state  resembled  that  of  a  wan- 
derer travelling  by  night  through  a  wood  full  of 
robbers  and  ravenous  beasts,  who  hears  them, 
from  time  to  time,  rustling  and  roaring  around 
him.  He  was  continually  tormented  by  care 
respecting  his  daily  support ;  he  had  little  suc- 
cess in  his  vocation,  little  love  in  the  circle  in 
which  he  moved,  and  consequently  little  com- 
fortable society.  No  one  encouraged  him  ;  for 
those  who  could  have  done  it,  did  not  know 
him,  nor  he  them  ;  and  those  that  observed  and 
were  acquainted  with  him  and  his  circumstan- 
ces, either  despised  him,  or  were  indifferent  to 
him.  If  he  occasionally  went  to  Rasenheim, 
he  did  not  dare  say  any  thing  of  his  condition, 
lest  he  should  cause  anxiety,  for  Mr.  Frieden- 
berg had  become  security  for  the  amount  his 
studies  had  cost ;  he  was  compelled  to  hide  his 
sorrow  from  his  Christina,  for  her  tender  mind 
would  have  been  unable  to  have  borne  it  with 
him  ;  he  was  even  obliged  to  encourage  her,  and 
hold  out  to  her  the  most  pleasing  hopes. 

It  was,  on  the  whole,  a  singular  affair  with 
reference  to  Stilling's  vocation  and  attending 
the  sick.  As  long  as  he  labored,  unobserved, 
amongst  the  poor  and  the  lower  class,  her  per- 
formed excellent  cures,  and  was  successful  in 
almost  every  case  ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  to 
attend  one  of  the  higher  class,  to  whom  many 
eyes  were  directed,  than  all  was  in  vain  ;  his 
sphere  of  action,  therefore,  continued  limited  to 
people  who  could  pay  him  but  little.  This  cir- 
cumstance, although  it  seemed  strange,  is  ea- 
sily understood :  his  whole  soul  was  system  ; 
in  his  ideas  it  was  requisite  that  every  thing 
should  be  according  to  rule;  hence  he  had  no 
disposition  for  the  refined  and  allowed  charla- 
tanry, which  is  so  needful  to  the  practical  phy- 
sician who  wishes  to  gain  something  for  himself ; 
therefore,  when  he  visited  a  patient,  he  inquired 
into  his  case,  then  formed  a  plan,  and  acted 
according  to  it.  If  it  did  not  succeed,  he  was 
vanquished ;  his  labors  then  became  disagree- 
able to  him,  and  yet  he  was  unable  to  help  him- 
self. With  common  and  robust  constitutions, 
in  which  nature  works  more  regularly  and  sim- 
ply, his  method  was  most  successful ;  but  where 
luxury,  delicate  nerves,  perverted  sensibility, 
and  imagination,  were  in  full  play,  and  where 
his  attention  to  the  patient  had  to  consist  of  a 
hundred  different  kinds  of  seemingly  important 
employments,  Stilling  did  not  feel  at  home. 

All  this  gradually  inspired  him  with  a  pro- 
found repugnance  to  the  medical  profession  ; 
and  only  the  idea  that  God  had  designed  him  to 
be  a  physician,  and  would  therefore  gradually 
render  him  successful  in  his  vocation,  supported 
his  soul,  and  kept  him  in  unwearied  activity. 
For  this  reason  he  formed,  the  very  first  sum- 
mer, the  gigantic  resolution  to  study  and  inves- 
tigate, until  he  had  attained  to  mathematical  cer- 
tainty in  his  vocation.  In  this  tedious  underta- 
king, he  hit  upon  several  important  tracks,  and 
discovered  many  new  philosophical  truths  ;  but 
the  further  he  sought,  the  more  he  found  that 
his  misfortunes  would  increase,  the  more  ground 
and  foundation  he  discovered  in  his  profession  ; 
for  he  perceived  very  clearly  that  the  physician 
can  do  very  little,  and  consequently  can  earn 
very  little.    This  weakened  his  hopes,  and  his 


STILLING. 

prospects  became  dark,  just  like  a  wanderer  on 
an  unknown  and  dangerous  path,  who  is  over- 
taken by  a  thick  fog,  so  that  he  cannot  see  ten 
steps  before  him.  He  therefore  cast  himself 
unreservedly  into  the  paternal  arms  of  God, 
hoped,  where  nothing  was  to  be  hoped  for,  and 
proceeded  in  a  very  melancholy  manner  on  his 
pilgrimage. 

Dare  I  tell  you,  friends  and  readers,  that  Still- 
ing, notwithstanding  all  this,  was  a  happy  man  ! 
What  is  the  object  of  human  life,  but  a  perfect- 
ing of  existence,  in  order  to  be  able  to  spread 
happiness  around  us?  Similarity  to  God  alid 
to  Christ  is  the  brilliant  aim  which  beams  upon 
a  mortal,  like  the  morning  radiance,  from  his 
youth  up  ;  but  where  is  the  boy,  the  youth,  or 
the  man,  in  whom  religion  and  reason  have  so 
much  the  ascendency  over  sensuality,  as  to  pre- 
vent him  from  wasting  his  life  in  gratifying 
himself,  and  from  forgetting  his  exalted  destiny  % 
It  is  therefore  an  invaluable  blessing,  when  art 
individual  is  instructed,  from  his  youth  up,  to 
place  an  entire  reliance  upon  God  ;  and  is  then, 
placed  by  Providence  in  a  situation  where  he  is 
compelled  to  exercise  that  confidence.  His  soul, 
by  this  means,  becomes  pliant,  humble,  resign- 
ed, patient,  and  unceasingly  operative  ;  it  strug- 
gles through  doing  and  suffering,  and  overcomes 
every  thing  ;  no  adversary  can  essentially  in- 
jure it,  for  it  strives  against  them  with  the 
weapons  of  love,  which  no  one  effectually  re- 
sists :  nay,  even  Deity  itself  may  be  overcome 
by  love  !  This  was  Stilling's  case.  The  wis© 
man  must  therefore  esteem  him  happy,  although 
scarcely  any  one  would  wish  himself  in  his 
place. 

Towards  the  autumn  of' the  year  1772,  the 
two  excellent  brothers  Vollkraft,  of  Rüsselstein, 
came  to  Schönenthal.  The  eldest  was  court- 
chamberlain,  and  a  noble,  upright,  excellent 
man  ;  he  had  a  commission  to  execute  at  the 
latter  place,  which  detained  him  some  weeks. 
His  brother,  a  sentimental,  tender,  and  well- 
known  poet,  and  at  the  same  time,  a  man  of  the 
best,  noblest,  and  most  upright  sentiments,  ac- 
companied him,  in  order  to  be  with  him  in  a 
place  which  was  so  entirely  destitute  of  food 
for  his  soul.  Doctor  Dinkier  was  very  well  ac- 
quainted with  these  two  worthy  characters.  At 
the  first  visit,  he  described  Stilling  to  them  so 
advantageously  that  they  were  desirous  of  be- 
coming acquainted  with  him.  Dinkier  gave  him 
a  hint,  and  he  hastened  to  visit  them.  He  went 
to  them  for  the  first  time  one  evening ;  when, 
the  chamberlain  entered  into  conversation  with, 
him,  and  was  so  taken  with  him,  that  he  saluted 
and  embraced  him,  and  favored  him  with  his  en- 
tire love  and  friendship;  the  same  was  the  case 
also  with  the  other  brother.  Both  understood 
him,  and  he  them  ;  their  hearts  overflowed  into 
each  other,  and  a  conversation  arose,  such  as 
is  not  understood  by  every  one. 

Stilling's  eyes  were  continually  filled  with 
tears  on  this  occasion.  His  deep  sorrow  sought 
alleviation  ;  but  he  never  mentioned  any  thing 
of  his  situation,  for  he  knew  how  humbling  it  is 
to  confess  one's  need  even  to  friends.  He  there- 
fore bore  his  burden  alone ;  which,  however, 
was  much  lightened  from  having  met  with  those 
who  understood  him,  and  were  confidential  and 
open  to  him.  Besides  this,  Stilling  was  of  low 
birth  ;  he  had  been  accustomed,  from  his  youth 


STILLING'S  DO 


MESTIC  LIFE 


87 


up,  to  regard  persons  of  rank,  and  even  rich 
and  reputable  people,  as  beings  of  a  superior 
kind  ;  hence  he  was  always  timid  and  reserved 
in  their  presence.  This  was  often  construed 
into  stupidity,  ignorance,  and  adherence  to  his 
low  descent :  in  a  word,  he  was  despised  by 
persons  of  the  common  sort,  who  were  destitute 
of  refined  feelings  :  but  the  brothers  Vollkraft 
were  of  a  very  different  stamp ;  they  treated 
him  confidentially  ;  he  revived  in  their  society, 
and  was  able  to  shew  himself  in  his  true  col- 
ours. 

Friedrich  Vollkraft,  for  so  was  the  chamber- 
lain called,  asked  him,  at  his  first  visit,  if  he 
had  written  any  thing.  Stilling  answered  that 
he  had  ;  for  he  had  sent  his  history,  in  lectures, 
by  piecemeal,  to  the  Society  of  Belles  Lettres 
at  Strasburg,  which  existed  at  that  time,  and 
had  received  the  copy  of  it  back  again.  The 
two  brothers  much  wished  to  read  it ;  he  brought 
it,  therefore,  at  the  next  visit,  and  read  it  to 
them.  The  style,  as  well  as  the  declamation, 
was  so  unexpected,  that  they  exclaimed  aloud, 
"That  is  beautiful — incomparable!"  They 
therefore  encouraged  him  to  write  more,  and 
induced  him  to  furnish  something  for  the  "  Ger- 
man Mercury,"  which  was  then  commencing. 
He  did  so,  and  wrote  "  Aseneitha,  an  Oriental 
Tale,"  which  appeared  in  the  first  part  of  the 
third  and  the  first  part  of  the  fourth  volume  of 
that  periodical  work,  and  gave  general  satisfac- 
tion. 

Through  this  acquaintanceship,  Vollkraft  be- 
came a  support  to  Stilling,  which  much  relieved 
him  on  a  very  painful  occasion.  He  had  now  a 
lodging  and  a  friend  when  he  travelled  to  Rüs- 
selstein, who  imparted  to  him,  by  his  corre- 
spondence, many  a  refreshing  ray  of"  light.  This 
connection,  however,  made  him  still  more  hated 
by  his  fellow-townsmen,  and  particularly  by  the 
Pietists  :  for  in  Schönenthal,  a  rigid  adherence 
to  systems  of  religion  universally  prevails,  and 
he  that  varies  from  them  in  the  smallest  degree, 
as  was  the  case  with  the  brothers  Vollkraft.was 
regarded  as  Anathema  and  Maranatha  ;  so  that 
if  a  person  writes  any  thing,  if  it  be  a  poem  that 
is  not  spiritual,  or  a  romance  however  moral, 
he  is  in  their  eyes  already  tainted  with  irreli- 
gion,  and  becomes  odious.  It  is  true  that  all 
the  inhabitants  of  Schönenthal  do  not  think 
alike,  of  which  proofs  will  be  given  in  the  se- 
quel ;  these  are,  however,  the  sentiments  of  the 
majority,  and  it  is  this  which  gives  the  ton. 

Doctor  Stilling  continued  to  live  thus  circum- 
stanced, amidst  a  variety  of  changes.  At  the 
close  of  the  year  1772,  he  made  a  calculation  of 
his  expenses  ;  he  balanced  receipts  and  pay- 
ments—or rather,  income  and  expenditure — 
and  found,  to  his  great  sorrow,  that  he  was  two 
hundred  dollars  deeper  in  debt ;  the  reason  of 
which  was  as  follows.  It  is  the  custom  in 
Schonenthal,  to  carry  every  thing  that  is  earn- 
ed to  account ;  therefore,  as  no  money  came  in, 
none  could  go  out ;  consequently,  what  is  want- 
ed is  fetched  from  the  tradespeople,  and  placed 
to  account.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  the  bills 
are  made  out  and  sent,  and  thus  accounts  are 
received  and  paid.  Now,  although  Stilling  had 
earned  as  much  as  he  had  spent,  yet  his  de- 
mands were  scattered  about  in  such  trifling 
sums  that  he  could  not  possibly  collect  them  all ; 
he  was  therefore  at  a  stand ;  and  thus,  the 


shopkeepers  not  being  paid,  his  credit  sank  still 
more  ;  his  grief,  on  this  account,  was  inexpres- 
sible. He  met  his  daily  ready-money  expenses 
by  what  he  received  from  patients  in  the  coun- 
try; but  this  resource  was  so  limited,  that  he 
had  barely  sufficient  for  mere  necessaries,  and 
was  frequently  put  to  the  severest  tests  ;  in 
which,  however,  Providence  never  forsook  him, 
but  came  to  his  aid,  as  formerly,  in  a  visible 
and  wonderful  manner.  The  following  is  an 
instance  amongst  many. 

In  Schönenthal,  coals  alone  are  used,  both  in 
the  kitchen  and  the  parlour  stoves ;  all  these 
coals  are  brought  from  the  neighbouring  prov- 
ince of  Mark.  Stilling  had  also  his  coalman, 
who  from  time  to  time  brought  him  a  horse- 
load,  which,  however,  he  was  obliged  to  pay  for 
on  the  spot ;  for  the  carrier  required  the  money 
to  buy  more,  and  he  had  been  hitherto  always 
provided  with  the  needful.  On  one  occasion, 
this  coalman  drove  up  to  the  docjr,  in  the  after- 
noon ;  the  coals  were  wanted/ and  the  man 
could  not  be  sent  away.  Stilling  had  not  half- 
a-guilder  in  the  house,  and  he  did  not  feel  him- 
self at  all  at  liberty  to  go  and  borrow  of  his 
neighbour.  Christina  wept,  while  he  prayed 
ardently  to  God.  All  that  was  required  was  a 
couple  of  Convention  dollars  ;  but  to  him  that 
does  not  possess  them,  the  payment  of  two  dol- 
lars is  as  difficult  as  to  one  who  has  to  pay  a 
thousand,  and  does  not  possess  a  hundred. 
Meanwhile,  the  carrier  unloaded  his  coals ;  and 
when  that  was  done,  he  washed  his  hands,  in 
order  to  receive  the  money ;  Stilling's  heart 
beat,  and  he  wrestled  with  God.  All  at  once, 
a  man  came  to  the  door  with  his  wife  ;  the  good 
people  were  from  Dornfeld  ;  Stilling  had  healed 
the  man  of  a  painful  disease  some  weeks  be- 
fore, and  had  charged  him,  in  his  account,  for 
the  end  of  the  year.  After  the  customary  salu- 
tations, the  man  began :  "  I  have  just  been  re- 
ceiving money ;  and  as  I  was  "passing  your  door, 
it  occurred  to  me,  that  I  had  no  need  to  let  my 
account  stand  over  till  next  year ;  I  therefore 
wish  to  settle  it  now.  You,  perhaps,  may  be 
able  to  make  use  of  the  money."  "  Very  weil," 
replied  Stilling;  so  saying,  he  went  and  fetched 
the  book,  made  out  the  account,  and  received  * 
ten  rix-dollars. 

Stilling  frequently  met  with  examples  of  this 
kind,  by  which  he  was  much  strengthened  in 
his  faith,  and  encouraged  to  persevere. 

On  the  5th  of  January,  1773,  Christina  bore 
him  a  daughter  ;  and  although  every  thing  pass- 
ed over  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  yet 
there  was  again  a  dreadful  period  of  six  hours' 
continuance,  in  which  the  fury,  Hysteric,  used 
her  claws  in  a  terrible  manner ;  the  poor  wom- 
an writhed  about  like  a  worm  ;  and  such  times 
were  always  a  penetrating  and  purifying  fire  for 
Stilling. 

The  following  spring,  after  riding,  one  Satur- 
day, to  a  neighbouring  village,  which  lies  at  the 
distance  of  a  league  and-a-half  from  Schönen- 
thal, in  order  to  visit  the  sick,  and  spending  the 
whole  day  in  going  from  house  to  house,  and 
from  cottage  to  cottage,  there  came  in  the  even- 
ing, a  poor,  young,  well-made  female,  across 
the  street,  who  was  blind,  and  was  obliged  to 
be  led  by  the  hand.  Stilling  was  still  eminent 
for  curing  diseases  of  the  eye  ;  he  stood  at  the 
door  of  the  inn,  near  his  horse,  and  was  just 


88  HEINRICH 

about  to  mount,  when  the  poor  woman  called 
out,  "  Where  is  the  Doctor  1" 

Stilling. — "  Here  !  What  do  you  want,  good 
woman  t" 

Woman. — "  Oh,  sir,  look  at  my  eyes  !  I  have 
been  blind  some  years ;  I  have  two  children, 
whom  I  have  never  seen,  and  my  husband  is  a 
day-lahourer ;  I  helped  formerly,  by  spinning, 
to  maintain  our  family,  but  I  cannot  do  so  now  ; 
and  though  my  husband  is  very  industrious,  yet 
he  cannot  support  us  alone,  and  therefore  we 
are  badly  off.  Oh  look,  sir,  and  see  whether 
you  can  do  any  thing  for  me  !" 

Stilling  looked  at  her  eyes,  and  said,  "  It  is  a 
cataract ;  you  might,  perhaps,  be  healed  of  it, 
if  you  met  with  an  able  man  who  could  perform 
the  operation." 

Woman. — "  Do  not  you  understand  it,  Doc- 
tor 1" 

Stilling. — "  Yes,  I  understand  it,  it  is  true  ; 
but  I  have  never  yet  tried  it  on  any  living  be- 
ing." 

Woman. — "Oh,  then,  try  it  upon  me  !" 

Stilling. — "  No,  good  woman !  that  I  will  not ; 
I  am  too  much  afraid  of  it ;  it  might  not  suc- 
ceed, and  then  you  would  always  continue 
blind  ;  it  would  be  afterwards  impossible  to 
cure  you." 

Woman. — "  But  now,  if  I  will  run  the  risk  1 
You  see  I  am  blind,  and  shall  not  be  blinder 
than  I  am  now  ;  perhaps  the  Lord  will  give  his 
blessing  with  it,  and  make  it  successful :  per- 
form the  operation  upon  me  !" 

At  these  words,  Stilling  was  seized  with  a  fit 
of  trembling ;  operations  were  not  his  business ; 
he  therefore  threw  himself  on  horseback,  and 
said,  "  Let  me  alone  ! — I  cannot — I  cannot — 
perform  the  operation." 

Woman.  —  "Doctor,  you  must;  it  is  your 
duty  ;  God  has  called  you  to  help  the  poor  and 
the  needy,  whenever  you  can  ;  now  you  can 
operate  for  the  cataract ;  I  will  be  the  first  to 
take  my  chance,  and  I  will  accuse  you  at  the 
day  of  judgment,  if  you  do  not  help  me  !" 

These  words  were  daggers  in  Stilling's  heart; 
he  felt  that  the  woman  was  in  the  right,  and 
yet  he  had  an  invincible  dread  and  dislike  to  all 
operations  on  the  human  body  ;  for  he  was,  on 
the  one  hand,  too  tender  and  too  susceptible, 
and,  on  the  other,  too  conscientious,  also,  to 
risk  the  happiness  of  any  one  in  such  a  man- 
ner. He  therefore  made  no  further  reply,  but 
rode  off ;  he  struggled  with  himself  on  the  way, 
but  the  result  was  the  same— a  resolution  not 
to  perform  the  operation.  However,  the  poor 
woman  did  not  let  the  matter  rest  there  ;  she 
went  to  her  minister — why  should  I  not  name 
him'? — the  worthy  man,  who  was  one  of  a  thou- 
sand— the  late  Theodore  Müller.  He  was  the 
father,  the  counsellor  of  all  the  members  of  his 
church  ;  the  prudent,  gentle,  unweariedly  active 
servant  of  God,  without  being  a  pietist ;  in  short, 
he  was  a  disciple  of  Jesus  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word.  His  Master  soon  called  him  away, 
assuredly  to  make  him  ruler  over  much.  La- 
vater  sang  his  death,  the  poor  wept  over  him, 
and  the  sick  lamented  him.  Blessed  be  thy  re- 
mains, thou  seed  for  the  day  of  retribution  ! 

The  poor  blind  woman  came  to  this  worthy 
man  to  tell  her  sorrows,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
accused  Doctor  Stilling.  Müller  therefore  wrote 
him  a  pressing  letter,  in  which  he  represented 


STILLING. 

to  him  all  the  happy  results  which  this  opera- 
tion would  occasion,  in  the  event  of  its  succeed- 
ing ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  inconsiderable 
consequences  in  the  event  of  its  being  unsuc- 
cessful. Stilling  ran,  in  the  distress  of  his 
heart,-to  his  friends  Dinkier  and  Troost.  Both 
advised  him  seriously  to  undertake  the  opera- 
tion ;  and  the  former  even  promised  to  accom- 
pany him  and  assist  him.  This  encouraged  him 
in  some  measure,  and  he  resolved  upon  it  with 
fear  and  trembling. 

There  was  another  circumstance  to  be  added 
to  all  this.  Stilling  had  been  particularly  in- 
structed at  Strasburg,  by  Professor  Lobstein,  in 
the  extraction  of  the  cataract,  and  had  also  pro- 
cured from  Bogner  the  instruments  for  it ;  for 
it  was  his  intention,  at  that  time,  to  unite  this 
excellent  and  beneficial  method  of  healing  to 
his  other  ophthalmic  remedies.  But,  on  becom- 
ing a  practical  physician  himself,  and  being 
grieved  to  see  all  the  misery  that  resulted  from 
unsuccessful  medical  attendance,  he  grew  ex- 
tremely timid,  and  did  not  dare  to  venture  on 
such  operations ;  he  consequently  lost  all  de- 
sire to  operate  for  the  cataract ;  and  this  was 
one  of  the  principal  reasons  why  he  could  not 
perform  as  much  —  or,  at  least,  did  not  appear 
to  accomplish  as  much  —  as  others  of  his  col- 
leagues, who  undertook  every  thing,  labored  on, 
and  though  they  often  made  miserable  falls, 
gathered  themselves  up  again,  and  notwith- 
standing all,  got  forward  better  than  he. 

Stilling  wrote,  therefore,  to  Müller,  that  he 
would  come  on  a  certain  day,  with  Doctor 
Dinkier,  to  perform  the  operation  on  the  poor 
woman.  Accordingly,  both  set  off,  on  the  day 
appointed,  and  walked  to  the  village ;  Dinkier 
gave  Stilling  every  possible  encouragement,  but 
it  was  of  little  avail.  At  length  they  arrived  at 
the  village,  and  went  to  Müller's  house ;  the 
latter  comforted  him,  and  the  woman  was  then 
sent  for,  together  with  the  surgeon,  who  had  to 
hold  her  head.  When  every  thing  was  ready, 
and  the  woman  had  taken  her  seat,  Stilling 
placed  himself  before  her,  took  the  instrument, 
and  introduced  it  into  the  eye  at  the  proper 
place.  But  as  the  patient,  as  is  natural,  moved 
a  little  on  taking  breath,  Stilling  drew  the  in- 
strument out  again  ;  consequently  the  watery 
humour  flowed  out  of  the  wound,  down  the 
cheek,  and  the  anterior  eye  closed.  Stilling, 
therefore,  took  the  curved  scissors,  and  pene- 
trated into  the  wound  with  the  one  blade,  and 
then  regularly  cut  the  semi-circle  below,  as  cus- 
tomary ;  but  on  looking  closely,  he  found  that 
he  had  also  cot  the  coat  of  the  iris  ;  he  was 
alarmed  ; — but  what  was  to  be  done  1  He  was 
silent,  and  sighed.  That  moment  the  lens  fell 
through  the  wound,  down  upon  the  cheek,  and 
the  woman  exclaimed,  in  the  greatest  transport 
of  joy,  "  O  Doctor,  I  can  see  your  face  !  I  see 
the  black  in  your  eyes  !"  All  present  rejoiced. 
Stilling  then  bound  up  the  eye,  and  healed  it 
successfully  ;  she  saw  extremely  well  with  one 
eye.  Some  weeks  after,  he  performed  the  op- 
eration upon  the  other  eye,  with  the  left  hand  ; 
all  was  done  regularly,  for  he  had  now  more 
courage  :  this  was  also  healed,  and  the  wom- 
an was  perfectly  restored  to  sight.  This  was 
noised  abroad,  so  that  several  blind  people 
came,  on  whom  he  successfully  performed  the 
operation  ;  it  was  seldom  that  he  did  not  sue- 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


89 


ceed.  Nevertheless,  it  was  singular,  that  these 
important  cures  rarely  yielded  him  any  emolu- 
ment. Most  of  the  individuals  being  poor,  he 
performed  the  operation  on  them  gratuitously  ; 
and  it  was  seldom  that  any  one  came  who  was 
able  to  pay  any  thing;  his  circumstances  were 
consequently  little  improved  by  his  success. 
Many  even  took  occasion  from  it  to  class  him 
with  operators  and  quack-doctors.  "  Only  pay  at- 
tention," said  they ;  "he  will  soon  begin  to  travel 
from  place  to  place,  and  enter  into  some  order." 

In  September  of  the  following  autumn,  the 
lady  of  one  of  the  principal  and  most  wealthy 
merchants,  or,  rather,  men  of  property,  who  was, 
at  the  same  time,  a  very  worthy  man,  was  con- 
fined for  the  first  time.  The  case  was  a  very 
painful  and  protracted  one,  and  Dinkier,  as  phy- 
sician to  the  family,  proposed  to  call  in  the  as- 
sistance of  Stilling,  who  was  therefore  sent  for. 
After  having  sufficiently  convinced  himself  that 
the  child  was  dead,  to  assist  the  mother,  he 
opened  its  head,  and  pressed  it  together.  Every 
thing  afterwards  went  on  well,  and  the  lady 
soon  became  convalescent.  But  the  heartfelt 
anxiety,  tears,  struggles,  and  sympathy  which 
such  employments  occasioned  our  susceptible 
Stilling,  cannot  be  described.  However,  he  felt 
it  his  duty,  and  was  obliged  to  go  whenever  he 
was  sent  for.  He  started,  therefore,  so  that 
his  heart  beat,  on  hearing  a  knock  at  his  door 
during  the  night;  and  this  has  interwoven  it- 
self so  firmly  into  his  nerves  that,  to  the  present 
moment,  he  shudders  whenever  any  one  knocks 
at  his  door  in  the  night-time,  although  he  is 
well  aware  that  he  is  no  longer  sent  for  to  act 
on  such  occasions. 

This  affair  gained  him,  for  the  first  time,  the 
esteem  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  Schönenthal ; 
he  now  saw  a  number  of  friendly  faces.  But 
this  pleasant  state  of  things  did  not  last  long  ; 
for  about  three  weeks  afterwards,  there  came 
an  order  from  the  medical  board  at  Rüsselstein, 
enjoining  him  to  abstain,  for  the  time  being, 
from  acting  as  accoucheur,  and  to  appear  before 
the  board  to  be  examined  regarding  that  depart- 
ment. Stilling  stood  as  if  thunder-struck  ;  he 
did  not  comprehend  a  word  of  it,  until,  at  length, 
he  learned  that  some  one  had  sent  a  very  unfa- 
vorable account  of  his  professional  aid  in  the 
above-mentioned  case. 

He  thefetore  set  out  for  Rüsselstein,  where 
he  took  up  his  abode  with  his  friend  Vollkraft, 
his  worthy  lady,  who  is  equalled  only  by  few, 
and  his  excellent  sisters ;  and  he  needed  this 
recreation  in  his  painful  circumstances.  He 
then  waited  upon  one  of  the  members  of  the 
medical  board,  who  received  him  very  scornful- 
ly, with  the  words,  "  I  hear  you  put  out  people's 
eyes."  "  No,"  answered  Stilling ;  "  but  I  have 
cured  several  of  the  cataract." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  said  the  man,  insolently  ; 
"  you  say  false."  "  No  !"  rejoined  Stilling,  with 
fire  in  his  eyes,  and  burning  cheeks,  "  I  do  not 
speak  falsely  ;  I  can  bring  witnesses  to  prove 
it  incontestably  ;  and  were  I  not  aware  of  the 
respect  I  owe  you,  sir,  as  one  of  my  superiors, 
I  would  answer  you  in  the  same  tone.  A  grad- 
uated person,  who  seeks  every  where  to  do  his 
duty,  deserves  the  esteem,  even  of  his  superi- 
ors." The  member  of  the  medical  board  laughed 
in  his  face,  and  said,  "Is  it  doing  your  duty  to 
destroy  children  1" 
M 


Dimness  now  obscured  Stilling's  sight ;  he 
turned  pale,  stepped  nearer,  and  rejoined,  "  Sir, 
do  not  say  that  again  !"  He  felt,  however,  at 
the  same  time,  all  the  horrors  of  his  situation, 
and  his  dependence  upon  this  horrible  man. 
He  therefore  sank  back  into  a  chair,  and  wept 
like  a  child  ;  but  this  produced  no  effect,  except 
to  excite  more  scorn  ;  he  therefore  rose  up,  and 
went  away.  In  order  that  his  grief  might  not 
be  too  much  perceived  by  the  Vollkrafts,  he 
walked  awhile  up  and  down  the  rampart ;  and 
when  he  entered  the  house,  he  seemed  more 
cheerful  than  he  was.  The  reason  why  he  did 
not  relate  all  his  grievances  to  Mr.  Vollkraft  lay 
in  his  nature  ;  for,  open-hearted  as  he  was  with 
respect  to  every  prosperous  circumstance,  he 
was  just  as  silent  regarding  all  he  had  to  suffer. 
One  cause  of  this  was  a  great  degree  of  self- 
love,  and  a  wish  to  spare  his  friends.  He  was 
ready,  however,  to  say  every  thing  and  reveal 
every  thing,  to  certain  people,  who  had  passed 
through  similar  situations ;  but  this  phenome- 
non had  a  still  deeper  foundation,  which  he  did 
not  perceive  till  long  after.  Rational  and  acute- 
thinking  people  could  not,  like  him,  regard  every 
thing  as  the  result  of  Divine  guidance  ;  no  one 
doubted  that  Providence  was  specially  leading 
him  to  some  exalted  aim ;  but  whether  much 
that  was  human  had  not  intervened  in  the  case 
of  his  marriage,  and  in  other  circumstances  that 
had  befallen  him,  was  another  question,  to  which 
every  philosophical -reasoner  would  loudly  an- 
swer, "Yes!"  Stilling,  at  that  time,  could  not 
bear  this  at  all ;  he  thought  he  knew  better,  and 
this  was  the  real  cause  of  his  silence.  The  se- 
quel of  this  history  will  show  how  far  these 
people  were  right  or  wrong.  But  I  return  to 
my  subject. 

The  medical  board  fixed  a  time  for  his  exam- 
ination in  Midwifery,  and  for  deciding  respect- 
ing his  treatment  of  the  Schönenthal  lady.  In 
his  examination,  the  most  captious  questions 
were  put  to  him,  and  it  was  decided,  that  "though 
he  was  pretty  correct  in  the  theory,  yet  he  had 
entirely  fallen  short  in  the  practice  ;"  he  was, 
therefore,  only  permitted  to  assist  in  cases  of 
the  utmost  extremity. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  vexatious  circum- 
stances, Stilling  could  not  refrain  from  laughing 
aloud  on  reading  this,  and  the  public  laughed 
with  him ;  he  was  forbidden  to  practise  as  an 
accoucheur,  as  an  unfit  person  ;  but  an  excep- 
tion was  made  in  extreme  cases,  in  which  the 
assistance  of  this  unfit  person  was  permitted. 
With  respect  to  the  case  of  labor  above-men- 
tioned, Stilling  was  declared  to  have  been  the 
cause  of  the  child's  death,  but  the  punishment 
was  spared  him  ;  a  great  favor  for  the  poor  doc- 
tor— to  be  allowed  to  murder  unpunished  ! 

This  decision,  however,  pained  him  to  the 
soul;  and  he  therefore  rode,  the  same  after- 
noon, to  Dulsberg,  in  order  to  bring  the  whole 
affair  before  the  medical  faculty  there,  the  head 
of  which,  at  that  time,  was  the  venerable  Leide- 
frost.  There  he  was  declared  perfectly  inno- 
cent, and  received  a  responsum  which  entirely 
restored  his  credit.  The  husband  of  the  lady 
that  had  been  delivered,  published  this  document 
himself  at  the  Schönenthal  town-house.  But 
the  estimation  of  the  cure  suffered  much  by  the 
course  the  matter  had  taken  ;  and  Stilling's  en- 
emies took  occasion  from  it  to  calumniate  him. 


'SO  HEINRICH 

Selling's  success  in  curing  the  cataract  had 
however  caused  much  sensation  ;  and  a  certain 
friend  even  inserted  an  account  of  it  in  the 
Frankfort  newspaper.  Now  there  was  at  the 
university  of  Marburg  a  very  worthy  and  able 
professor  of  Jurisprudence,  of  the  name  of  Sor- 
ber,  who  had  been  three  years  blind  of  the  cat- 
aract, to  whom  this  account  in  the  newspaper 
was  read.  He  instantly  felt  impelled  to  take 
the  long  journey  to  Schönenthal,  in  order  to 
have  the  operation  performed  by  Stilling,  and 
to  place  himself  under  his  care.  He  therefore 
arrived  at  the  end  of  April,  1774,  with  his  lady 
and  two  daughters,  and  Stilling  successfully 
performed  the  operation  in  the  beginning  of 
May ;  his  patient  recovered  so  satisfactorily 
that  he  perfectly  regained  his  sight,  and  still 
continues  to  fill  his  situation  in  an  honorable 
manner.  During  this  time,  Christina  was 
brought  to  bed  a  second  time,  and  bore  a  son. 
With  the  exception  of  dreadful  hysterical  fits 
from  the  milk-fever,  every  thing  went  on  fa- 
vorably. 

There  was  still  one  thing  which  lay  at  Still- 
ing's  heart.  He  wished  to  see  his  father  again, 
after  so  long  a  lapse  of  time.  As  Doctor,  he 
had  not  yet  spoken  to  him,  and  his  consort  was 
still  entirely  unacquainted  with  him ;  but 
though  he  had  frequently  invited  the  worthy 
man,  and  Wilhelm  had  often  promised  to  come, 
yet  he  always  postponed  his  visit.  Stilling  now, 
however,  did  his  utmost.  *  He  wrote  to  him  to 
say  that  he  would  ride  on  a  certain  day  to 
Meinerzhagen,  which  was  half-way,  to  meet 
him,  and  would  fetch  him  from  thence.  This 
produced  the  desired  effect.  Wilhelm  Stilling 
set  out  at  the  proper  time,  and  they  met  at  the 
appointed  inn,  at  Meinerzhagen.  They  ran  to 
each  other's  arms,  and  the  feelings  which  as- 
sailed the  hearts  of  both  were  unspeakable. 
Wilhelm  in  unconnected  ejaculations  expressed 
his  joy,  that  his  and  Doris's  son  had  now  attain- 
ed the  object  for  which  he  was  designed  ;  he 
wept  and  laughed  alternately  ;  and  his  son  took 
good  care  not  to  give  him  the  slightest  hint  rel- 
ative to  his  painful  sufferings,  his  doubtful  suc- 
cess, and  the  difficulties  of  his  profession  ;  for 
by  this  he  would  have  spoiled  all  his  father's 
joy.  He  nevertheless  felt  his  grief  the  more 
deeply  ;  it  pained  him  not  to  be  so  happy  as  his 
father  imagined  him  to  be,  and  he  doubted  also 
that  he  ever  should  be  thus  happy  ;  for  he  al- 
ways regarded  himself  as  one  whom  God  had 
destined  to  the  medical  profession,  and  that  he 
must  continue  in  this  vocation,  although  he  had 
for  some  time  taken  a  dislike  to  it ;  because,  on 
the  one  hand,  he  found  so  little  real  encourage- 
ment in  this  science  ;  and  on  the  other,  because 
if  he  proceeded  with  it  in  an  honest  manner,  it 
was  not  sufficient  to  support  him,  much  less  to 
prove  the  basis  of  the  prosperity  of  his  family. 

The  next  morning,  he  placed  his  father  on 
the  horse,  and  acted  the  pedestrian  at  his  side 
on  the  path;  and  thus  they  travelled  nine 
leagues  that  day,  conversing  in  a  most  agreea- 
ble manner,  until  they  reached  Rasenheim, 
where  he  introduced  his  father  to  the  whole  of 
his  Christina's  family.  Wilhelm  was  received 
in  a  manner  worthy  of  him ;  he  shook  every 
one  by  the  hand  ;  and  his  honest,  characteris- 
tic Stilling's-face,  inspired  every  one  with  rev- 
Terence.    The  Doctor  now  let  his  father  walk  on 


STILLING 

before,  accompanied  by  one  of  his  brothers-in- 
law,  whilst  he  remained  a  few  minutes  longer, 
in  order  to  give  free  vent  to  his  feelings  in  the 
bosom  of  Mr.  Friedenberg' s  family ;  he  wept 
aloud,  thanked  God,  and  then  hastened  after  his 
father.  He  had  never  travelled  the  road  from 
Rasenheim  to  Schönenthal  with  such  heartfelt 
delight  as  on  the  present  occasion ;  and  Wil- 
helm likewise  rejoiced  in  his  God. 

On  entering  the  house,  Christina  flew  down- 
stairs to  meet  the  worthy  man,  and  fell  upon 
his  neck  with  tears.  Such  scenes  must  be  wit- 
nessed, and  the  spectator  of  them  must  possess 
the  requisite  organs  of  sensibility,  in  order  to  be 
able  to  feel  them  in  all  their  force. 

Wilhelm  remained  a  week  with  his  children  ; 
and  Stilling  again  accompanied  him  as  far  as 
Meinerzhagen,  from  whence  each  pursued  his 
way  in  peace. 

Some  weeks  after,  Stilling  was  sent  for  early 
one  morning  to  an  inn,  and  was  told  that  a 
strange  gentleman,  who  was  sick,  desired  to 
speak  with  him.  He  therefore  dressed  himself, 
went  thither,  and  was  conducted  into  the  cham- 
ber of  the  stranger.  He  found  his  patient  with 
a  large  cloth  wrapped  round  his  neck,  and  his 
head  enveloped  in  clothes.  The  stranger 
stretched  his  hand  out  of  bed,  and  said,  with  a 
weak  and  hollow  voice,  "Doctor,  feel  my  pulse  ! 
I  am  very  weak  and  poorly."  Stilling  felt  it, 
and  found  the  pulse  very  regular  and  healthy ; 
he  expressed  himself  therefore  to  that  effect, 
and  declared  he  found  nothing  wrong,  for  the 
pulse  went  regularly.  Whilst  saying  this,  Go- 
ethe took  him  round  the  neck.  Stilling's  joy 
was  indescribable,  and  he  took  him  home  with 
him.  Christina  was  also  happy  to  see  this 
friend,  and  made  preparations  for  dinner. 
Meanwhile  he  led  Goethe  to  an  eminence  out 
of  the  town,  in  order  to  show  him  the  charming 
view  of  the  town  and  the  extensive  valley. 

Just  at  that  time,  the  brothers  Vollkraft  were 
again  in  Schönenthal  on  business.  They  had 
a  friend  with  them,  who  has  rendered  himself 
celebrated  by  his  beautiful  writings,  but  whom 
Stilling  did  not  like,  because  of  his  satirical  and 
sarcastic  humour  ;  he  therefore  seldom  visited 
his  friends,  for  Juvenal  (as  I  will  for  the  present 
call  the  man)  continually  ridiculed  him  on  ac- 
count of  his  attachment  to  religion.  During 
the  time  that  Stilling  was  taking  a  walk  with 
Goethe,  Mr.  Vollkraft  the  chamberlain  rode  up 
to  Stilling's  door  on  horseback,  and  called  out 
to  the  servant,  to  tell  her  master  that  he  had 
suddenly  set  off  for  Rüsselstein,  because  Goethe 
was  there.  Christina  was  not  present  at  the 
moment  to  inform  him  of  the  true  state  of  the 
case.  Vollkraft  therefore  trotted  off  in  haste ; 
when  Goethe  and  Stilling  returned  home,  and 
the  servant  related  the  occurrence  to  them,  they 
both  regretted  the  mistake,  but  it  was  then  too 
late  to  alter  it. 

The  peculiar  occasion  of  this  journey  of  Go- 
ethe's was  the  following :  Lavater  had  been 
visiting  the  baths  at  Ems,  from  whence  he  trav- 
elled to  Muhlheim  on  the  Rhine,  to  visit  a  friend 
there.  Goethe  had  followed  him  to  Ems  ;  and 
in  order  to  see  every  thing  of  a  remarkable  na- 
ture, and  to  visit  some  eminent  characters,  he 
had  accompanied  him  to  Muhlheim.  Goethe 
then  left  Lavater  behind  him,  and  made  an  ex- 
cursion, by  way  of  Rüsselstein,  to  Schönenthal, 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


91 


in  order  likewise  to  visit  his  old  friend  Stilling, 
promising  Lavater  to  return  to  Muhlheim  at  a 
certain  time,  and  accompany  him  hack  again. 
However,  during  Goethe's  absence,  Lavater 
was  under  the  necessity  of  likewise  proceeding 
to  Rüsselstein,  and  from  thence  to  Schönenthal ; 
but  of  this,  Goethe  did  not  know  a  syllable ; 
consequently,  after  dining  with  Stilling,  he  set 
out  on  horseback  on  the  way  to  Rüsselstein, 
with  the  above-mentioned  Juvenal,  in  order  to 
meet  the  Vollkrafts  there.  Scarcely  were  they 
•  gone,  when  Lavater  came  driving  up  the  street, 
accompanied  by  the  two  Vollkrafts,  the  cele- 
brated Hasenkamp  of  Duisburg,  and  the  very 
remarkable,  pious,  and  learned  Doctor  Collen- 
busch.  Stilling  being  informed  of  this,  hastened 
after  the  two  horsemen,  and  brought  them  back 
again. 

Lavater  and  his  attendants,  meanwhile,  had 
turned  in  at  a  well-known  and  pious  merchant's. 
Stilling,  Goethe,  and  Juvenal  hastened  thither 
also.  Never,  perhaps,  had  a  more  singularly 
mixed  company  met  together,  than  that  which 
now  surrounded  the  large  oval  table,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  Schönenthal  fashion,  was  at  the 
same  time  loaded  with  refreshments.  It  is 
worth  the  while  for  me  to  give  even  a  rude 
sketch  of  these  guests. 

Lavater's  fame  for  practical  godliness  had  at- 
tracted thither,  amongst  others,  an  old  adhe- 
rent of  Tersteegen's  ;  he  was  in  every  respect 
a  venerable  man  :  unmarried,  according  to  the 
principles  of  pure  mysticism  ;  extremely  partic- 
ular in  the  choice  of  his  company  ;  very  friend- 
ly ;  grave  ;  of  a  soft-featured  countenance,  com- 
posed look,  and  careful  in  all  his  expressions  ; 
all  his  words  were  weighed,  as  it  were,  in  gold 
scales  ;  in  short,  he  was  an  excellent  man,  if  I 
except  the  single  peculiarity,  which  all  persons 
of  this  kind  so  easily  assume — that  of  being  in- 
tolerant towards  all  who  differ  frorn  them  in 
opinion.  This  venerable  man,  with  his  round 
and  lively  face,  round  bob-wig  and  black  small- 
clothes, sat  towards  the  head  of  the  table  ;  he 
looked  about  him  with  a  kind  of  friendly  anxi- 
ety, and  now  and  then  privately  dropped  mon- 
itory hints,  for  he  scented  spirits  of  very  differ- 
ent sentiments. 

Next  to  him  sat  Vollkraft  the  chamberlain, 
in  a  fashionable  riding-dress,  a  refined  man  of 
the  world  equalled  only  by  few  ;  his  lively  dis- 
position shot  forth  sparks  of  wit,  and  his  high- 
ly-rectified philosophical  feeling  judged  always 
according  to  the  balances  of  propriety,  of  recti- 
tude, and  of  justice. 

After  him  followed  his  brother,  the  poet ; 
from  whose  whole  being  streamed  gentle,  pleas- 
ing feeling,  and  benevolence  towards  God  and 
man,  let  them  think  and  believe  as  they  would, 
if  they  were  only  good  and  worthy  people  ;  his 
grey  flock-hat  lay  behind  him  in  the  window, 
and  his  form'was  covered  with  a  light  summer 
frock. 

The  landlord  sat  next  him ;  he  had  on  his 
nead  a  coal-black  wig  with  a  bag,  and  a  brown 
chintz  morning-gown,  girded  about  with  a  green 
silk  sash ;  his  large  prominent  eyes  started 
forth  from  beneath  his  broad  and  lofty  forehead ; 
his  chin  was  pointed,  and  the  face,  on  the  whole, 
triangular  and  meagre,  but  full  of  traits  of  un- 
derstanding ;  he  loved  rather  to  hear  than  to 
speak;  and  when  he  spoke,  every  thing  was 


previously  considered  and  decreed  in  the  cham- 
ber of  his  brain  ;  certainly  his  dove-like  simpli- 
city was  not  unaccompanied  by  the  wisdom  of 
the  serpent. 

Lavater  was  next  in  order  ;  his  apostle  John's 
face  forcibly  attracted  every  heart  with  venera- 
tion and  love  ;  and  his  cheerful  and  pleasing 
wit,  combined  with  a  lively  and  amusing  hu- 
mour, made  all  present  its  own,  who  did  not 
think  they  sinned  by  wit  and  humour.  Mean- 
while his  physiognomical  feelers  were  secretly 
and  constantly  at  work  ;  for  here  there  was  no 
want  of  objects.  He  had  an  able  drawing-mas- 
ter with  him,  who  also  did  not  sit  with  his  hands 
in  his  bosom. 

Near  Lavater  sat  Hasenkamp,  a  man  of  about 
forty  years  of  age  ;  a  little  bent,  thin,  and  hec- 
tic, with  rather  a  long  face,  remarkable  physi- 
ognomy, and  an  aspect  which  inspired  venera- 
tion. Every  word  was  a  paradox,  exciting  re- 
flection and  pleasure,  though  seldom  systemat- 
ic ;  his  spirit  sought  for  liberty,  and  struggled  in 
its  tabernacle  after  truth,  until,  having  soon 
burst  it,  he  soared  aloft  with  a  loud  hallelujah 
to  the  Source  of  light  and  truth.  His  detached 
pieces  cause  orthodox  and  heterodox  Christians 
to  shake  their  heads  ;  but  he  required  to  be 
known  ;  he  constantly  walked  with  his  per- 
spective glass  in  his  hand,  up  and  down  the 
land  of  shadows,  and  looked  over  into  the  re- 
gion of  the  plains  of  light,  the  dazzling  rays  of 
which  occasionally  dimmed  his  sight. 

Collenbusch  followed  next,  a  theological  phy- 
sician, or  medical  divine.  His  countenance  was 
remarkably  singular — a  face  which  shook  Lava- 
ter's whole  system  ;  it  contained  nothing  disa- 
greeable, nothing  bad ;  but,  at  the  same  time, 
nothing  of  all  that  on  which  he  builds  greatness 
of  soul.  A  secret  and  serene  majesty,  howev- 
er, beamed  forth  through  his  features,  which 
were  disfigured  by  the  small-pox,  but  so  slightly 
as  only  to  be  gradually  discovered  in  associating 
with  him.  His  eyes,  which  were  struggling  with 
the  cataract  and  the  gutta  serena,  and  his  ever- 
open  mouth,  showing  two  rows  of  beautiful 
white  teeth,  seemed  as  if  they  would  attract  the 
truth  through  worlds  of  space  ;  and  his  very 
pleasing  and  agreeable  language,  connected  with 
a  high  degree  of  politeness  and  modesty,  fetter- 
ed every  heart  that  approached  him. 

Juvenal  then  followed.  Let  the  reader  ima- 
gine to  himself  a  little,  young,  round-headed, 
mannikin,  the  head  inclining  a  little  to  one 
shoulder,  with  bright  and  roguish  eyes,  and  an 
ever-smiling  countenance — he  said  nothing,  but 
made  his  observations  in  silence  ;  his  whole  at- 
mosphere was  an  impenetrable  power,  which  re- 
pelled every  thing  that  sought  to  approach  him. 

Close  to  him  sat  a  worthy  young  Schönen- 
thal merchant,  a  friend  of  Stilling,  full  of  reli- 
gion without  pietism,  and  glowing  with  a  hun- 
ger after  truth— a  man  who  has  few  that  are  like 
him. 

Now  followed  Stilling ;  he  sat  there,  with  a 
profound  and  secret  grief  on  his  brow,  which 
Circumstances  for  the  moment  dispelled  ;  he 
spoke  occasionally,  and  sought  to  show  each 
one  his  heart  as  it  was. 

Some  inconsiderable  physiognomies,  merely 
to  fill  up  the  vacant  space,  completed  the  circle. 
Goethe  could  not  sit  still ;  he  danced  about  the 
table,  made  faces,  and  showed  every  where,  in 


92 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


his  way,  how  royally  the  circle  of  men  delighted 
him.  The  Schönenthal  people  thought  to  them- 
selves, "  Good  heaven  !  the  man  cannot  be  right 
in  his  head  !"  but  Stilling  and  others,  who  knew 
him  and  his  ways  better,  thought  they  should 
burst  with  laughter,  when  some  one  regarded 
him  with  a  fixed,  and  as  it  were  compassionating 
eye,  and  he  would  confound  him  with  a  full  and 
piercing  look. 

This  scene  lasted,  rather  tumultuously,  scarce- 
ly half-an-hour  ;  when  Lavater,  Hasenkamp,  Col- 
lenbusch,  the  young  merchant,  and  Stilling,  rose 
up,  and  wandered  forth  in  the  clear  evening 
sunshine,  up  the  lovely  valley,  in  order  to  visit 
the  excellent  Theodore  Müller  above-mentioned. 
Stilling  will  never  forget  that  walk  ;  Lavater 
became  acquainted  with  him,  and  he  with  La- 
vater ;  they  spoke  much  together,  and  became 
attached  to  each  other.  On  arriving  at  the  vil- 
lage, Stilling  returned  to  Schönenthal  with  his 
friend  ;  in  the  mean  time,  Goethe  and  Juvenal 
had  set  off  for  Russelstein,  Lavater  came  next 
morning  to  visit  Stilling,  had  his  portrait  taken 
for  his  work  on  Physiognomy,  and  then  pursued 
his  journey  further. 

It  was  necessary  to  touch  upon  this  remarka- 
ble period  of  Stilling's  life  circumstantially  ;  for 
although  it  made  no  alteration  in  his  situation, 
yet  it  laid  the  foundation  for  a  variety  of  impor- 
tant changes  in  his  future  course  of  life.  One 
thing  more  I  have  forgotten  to  observe ;  Goethe 
took  with  him  the  manuscript  of  Stilling's  life, 
in  order  to  be  able  to  read  it  at  home,  at  his  lei- 
sure; we  shall  find,  in  the  sequel,  the  excellent 
use  which  Providence  made  of  this  apparently 
trifling  circumstance,  and  of  Goethe's  visit. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

In  the  autumn  ofthat  year,  1772,  a  Schönenthal 
merchant  brought  with  him  from  the  Frankfort 
fair  a  merchant  of  the  name  of  Bauch,  from 
Sonnenburg  in  Saxony,  in  the  hope  that  Stilling 
would  be  able  to  cure  him.  Stilling  looked  at 
his  eyes  ;  the  pupils  were  broad,  but  still  in 
some  degree  moveable ;  though  there  was  the 
commencement  of  the  cataract,  yet  the  patient 
was  much  too  blind  for  it  to  proceed  solely  from 
this  trifling  obscurity.  Stilling  saw  clearly  that 
the  beginning  of  the  gutta  Serena  was  the' chief 
cause  of  the  evil;  he  mentioned  this;  but  his 
friends  all  advised  him  to  attempt  the  operation, 
particularly  because  the  patient  was  otherwise 
incurable,  and  therefore  would  lose  nothing  by 
the  operation;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  duty  re- 
quired that  every  means  should  be  tried.  Still- 
ing therefore  suffered  himself  to  be  prevailed 
upon,  for  the  patient  himself  requested  that  the 
attempt  might  be  made,  and  expressed  himself 
to  the  effect  that  this  last  remedy  must  be  also 
tried ;  the  operation  was  successfully  performed, 
and  the  cure  commenced. 

The  step  was  very  inconsiderate,  and  Stilling 
found  sufficient  cause  to  repent  of  it.  The  cure 
did  not  succeed;  the  eyes  inflamed,  suppurated 
strongly,  and  the  sight  was  not  only  irreparably 
lost,  but  the  eyes  had  now  also  an  ugly  appear- 
ance. Stilling  wept  in  solitude,  and  prayed  to 
God  on  his  face  for  this  man,  that  he  might  be 
healed;  but  he  was  not  heard.  To  this,  other 
circumstances  were  added;  Bauch  learned  that 


Stilling  was  needy,  and  hence  he  began  to  be- 
lieve that  he  had  performed  the  operation  mere- 
ly in  order  to  gain  money.  Now  though  the 
merchant,  his  landlord,  who  had  brought  him 
with  him,  was  Stilling's  friend,  and  sought  to 
divest  him  of  his  suspicions,  yet  there  were  oth- 
ers, who  visited  the  patient,  who  insinuated  dis- 
trust enough  concerning  Stilling's  poverty,  de- 
ficiency in  knowledge,  and  limited  abilities. 
Bauch  therefore  travelled  back  to  Frankfort  un- 
happy, and  full  of  vexation  and  mistrust  of  Still- 
ing's integrity  and  attainments;  he  remained 
there  some  weeks,  in  order  to  make  new  attempts 
with  his  eyes,  and  after  that  to  return  home. 

During  this  time,  a  very  worthy  and  respect- 
able Frankfort  patrician,  Mr.  Von  Leesner, 
heard  how  Professor  Sorber  of  Marburg  had 
been  cured  by  Stilling.  He  himself  had  been 
blind  for  some  years ;  he  therefore  sent  to  Sor- 
ber for  the  requisite  information,  and  received 
the  most  satisfactory  reply.  Mr.  Von  Leesner 
consequently  had  his  eyes  inspected  by  several 
physicians,  and  as  all  of  them  agreed  that  the 
cataract  might  be  cured,  he  committed  the  mat- 
ter to  his  family-physician,  the  respectable  and 
worthy  Doctor  Hoffmann,  that  he  might  corre- 
spond with  Stilling  upon  the  subject,  and  induce 
him  to  proceed  to  Frankfort ;  because,  being  old, 
blind,  and  infirm,  he  did  not  think  himself  able 
to  undertake  such  a  journey.  Leesner  promised 
to  pay  Stilling  a  thousand  guilders,  whether  the 
operation  proved  successful  or  not.  These  thou- 
sand guilders  dazzled  Stilling's  eyes  in  his  afflict- 
ed circumstances;  and  Christina,  however  intol- 
erable her  husband's  absence  might  seem  to  her, 
advised  him,  very  seriously,  not  to  neglect  this 
establishment  of  his  reputation  ;  the  Friedenberg 
family,  and  all  his  friends,  also  advised  him  to 
go.  Theodore  Müller  alone  was  entirely  oppo- 
sed to  it :  he  said,  "  Friend,  you  will  repent  of  it, 
and  the  thousand  guilders  will  cost  you  dear.  I 
forebode  a  melancholy  result ;  remain  here;  let 
him  that  will  not  come  to  you,  stay  away.  Lees- 
ner has  money  and  time;  he  will  come  when  he 
sees  that  you  will  not  undertake  the  journey." 
However,  all  his  advice  was  fruitless;  Stilling's 
former  impulse  to  run  before  Providence  again 
got  the  ascendancy ;  he  therefore  determined  to 
set  off  for  Frankfort,  and  accordingly  promised 
Mr.  Von  Leesner  that  he  would  come. 

Stilling  now  dreamed  of  future  prosperity  and 
the  end  of  his  sufferings.  With  the  thousand 
guilders,  he  expected  to  be  able  to  pay  the  most 
urgent  demands  upon  him;  and  he  likewise  saw 
clearly,  that  the  successful  cure  of  such  an  in- 
dividual would  excite  great  attention,  and  pro- 
cure him  an  extensive  and  lucrative  practice 
from  far  and  near.  Meanwhile  it  seemed  that 
Bauch,  who  was  still  residing  at  Frankfort, 
would  ruin  the  whole  affair  again;  for  as  soon 
as  he  heard  that  Von  Leesner  intended  to  place 
himself  under  Stilling's  care,  he  seriously  warn- 
ed him,  and  depreciated  Stilling  as  much  as  he 
could,  on  account  of  his  needy  circumstances 
and  mean  acquirements ;— however,  it  was  of 
no  avail ;  Von  Leesner  persisted  in  his  inten- 
tion. No  one  could,  in  reality,  blame  Bauch 
for  acting  thus,  for  he  had  no  other  knowledge 
of  Stilling,  and  his  object  in  warning  Von  Lees- 
ner against  misfortune  was  not  ignoble. 

Goethe,  who  was  still  residing  at  Frankfort 
with  his  parents,  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  hav- 
ing his  friend  Stilling  with  him  for  a  time;  his 
parents  invited  him,  during  his  abode  there,  to 
dine  at  their  table,  and  hired  a  handsome  apart- 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


93 


ment  for  him  in  their  neighbourhood.  Goethe 
also  inserted  an  advertisement  in  the  newspa- 
pers, in  order  that  other  sufferers  might  be  ben- 
efited by  him  ;  and  thus  the  whole  affair  was 
regulated  and  agreed  upon.  Stilling's  few  friends 
rejoiced  and  hoped,  others  were  anxious;  and 
the  greater  part  of  those  who  knew  him  wished 
he  mignt  not  succeed. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1775,  in  the  first 
week  of  January,  Stilling  mounted  a  hired  horse, 
took  a  guide  with  hira,  and  rode  one  afternoon, 
in  dreadf  ully  rainy  weather,  to  Waldstatt ;  there 
he  remained  the  night.  The  day  following  the 
heavens  seemed  willing  to  pour  a  new  deluge 
over  the  earth  ;  all  the  brooks  and  streams  were 
immensely  swollen,  and  Stilling  more  than  once 
was  in  the  utmost  danger  of  his  life.  However, 
he  arrived  safely  at  Meinerzhagen,  where  be 
passed  the  night.  The  third  morning  he  set  out 
again  upon  his  way ;  the  sky  wras  now  pretty 
clear,  large  clouds  flew  over  his  head,  and  the 
sun  occasionally  shot  its  gentle  rays  through 
them  upon  his  face;  all  nature  reposed;  the  for- 
ests and  bushes  were  grey  and  leafless,  the  fields 
and  meadows  half-green,  the  streams  murmured, 
the  storm-wind  whistled  from  the  west,  and  not 
a  single  bird  animated  the  scene. 

Towards  noon,  he  came  to  a  solidary  inn,  in  a 
beautiful  and  pretty  valley  called  Rosedale; 
here  he  saw,  with  astonishment  and  terror,  on 
riding  down  the  hill,  that  the  stream,  which  was 
furnished  with  a  strong  arched  bridge  from  one 
hill  to  the  other,  had  overflowed  the  whole  val- 
ley ;  so  that  he  imagined  he  saw  the  Rhine  be- 
fore him,  except  that  here  and  there  a  bush  peep- 
ed forth.  Stilling  and  his  companion  mutually 
expressed  their  sorrow;  he  had  also  promised 
his  Christina  to  write  from  Leindorf,  where  his 
father  lived ;  for  his  way  led  him  directly  through 
his  native  province.  He  knew  that  Christina 
would  expect  letters  on  the  day  appointed,  and 
there  was  no  opportunity  of  sending  them  from 
the  place  where  he  was;  he  was  therefore  obli- 
ged to  proceed,  or  be  under  the  apprehension 
that  from  anxiety  she  would  be  seized  with  fits, 
and  become  dangerously  ill  again. 

In  this  dilemma  he  perceived  that  the  balus- 
trade, which  conducted  from  the  road  to  the 
bridge,  still  projected  a  foot  high  above  the  wa- 
ter; this  gave  him  courage;  and  he  determined 
to  take  his  attendant  behind  him  on  the  horse, 
and  endeavour  to  ride  along  the  paling  to  the 
bridge. 

It  was  dinner-time  when  he  reached  the  inn  ; 
here  he  met  with  several  carriers,  who  awaited 
the  falling  of  the  water,  and  all  advised  him  not 
to  venture;  it  was  in  vain, — his  active  and  ar- 
dent spirit  was  not  disposed  for  waiting,  where 
working  or  resting  depended  solely  upon  him; 
he  therefore  took  his  attendant  up  behind  him, 
entered  the  flood,  and  struggled  successfully 
through. 

A  couple  of  hours  after,  Stilling  gained  the 
eminence,  from  which  he  saw  before  him  the 
mountains  and  plains  of  his  native  province. 
There  lay  the  lofiy  Kindelsberg,  south-west- 
ward before  him;  eastward,  at  its  foot,  he  saw 
the  smoke  of  the  chimneys  of  Lichthausen,  and 
soon  discovered  which  of  them  belonged  to  Iiis 
uncle  Johann  Stilling;  a  sweet  thrill  pervaded 
all  his  limbs,  and  all  the  scenes  of  his  youth 
passed  before  his  soul;  they  seemed  to  him  to 
be  golden  times.  What  have  I  now  attained  V 
thought  he  to  himself;  "nothing  but  splendid 
misery !   I  am  indeed  become  a  man  that  ex- 


cels all  his  forefathers  in  honor  and  respectabil- 
ity; but  what  avails  all  this'?— a  painted  sword 
hangs  by  a  silken  thread  over  my  head  ;  it  only 
need  fall,  and  every  thin?  would  vanish  like  an 
empty  bubble!  My  debts  are  growing  more 
and  more  heavy,  and  I  have  reason  to  fear  that 
my  creditors  will  lay  hands  on  me,  take  the  lit- 
tle I  have,  and  then  leave  me  naked  in  the  street ; 
and  besides,  I  have  a  delicate  wife,  who  could 
not  bear  this,  and  two  children,  that  would  cry 
for  bread."  The  idea  was  dreadful ! — it  torment- 
ed Stilling  unceasingly  for  hours  together,  so 
that  he  could  not  enjoy  a  single  happy  moment. 
At  length  he  recovered  himself  again  ;  the  great 
experience  he  had  of  the  paternal  fidelity  of  God, 
and  the  important  prospects  of  his  present  jour- 
ney, inspired  him  with  renewed  courage,  so  that 
he  trotted  cheerfully  and  joyfully  into  the  vil- 
lage of  Lichihausen. 

He  rode  first  to  the  house  of  the  son-in-law  of 
Johann  Stilling,  who  was  an  innkeeper,  and  had 
therefore  accommodation  for  his  horse.  He  was 
received  by  the  friend  of  his  youth  and  her  hus- 
band with  great  rejoicing;  he  then  walked,  with 
trembling  joy  and  a  beating  heart,  to  his  uncle's 
house  The  report  of  his  arrival  had  already 
spread  through  the  whole  village;  every  window 
was  full  of  heads,  and  as  he  opened  the  house- 
door,  the  two  brothers,  Johann  and  Wilhelm, 
came  to  meet  him  ;  he  embraced  one  after  the 
other,  wept  on  their  necks,  and  the  two  grey- 
heads  also  shed  large  tears.  "  Bless  you,  bless 
you,  my  dear  nephew !"  began  that  truly  great 
man,  Johann  Stilling;  "our  joy  is  unspeakably 
great  on  seeing  you  at  the  summit  of  your  wish- 
es ; — you  have  ascended  to  it  gloriously,  on  the 
footsteps  of  honor;  you  have  outreached  us  all; 
you  are  the  pride  of  our  family,"  &c.  Stilling 
answered  nothing  more  than,  "  It  is  solely  and 
wholly  God's  work;  He  has  done  it!"  He 
would  gladly  have  also  added,  "And  still  I  am 
not  happy  ;  I  feel  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice ;" 
however,  he  kept  his  troubles  to  himself,  and 
went  without  further  ceremony  into  the  parlour. 

Here  he  found  all  the  chairs  and  benches  fill- 
ed with  neighbours  and  peasants  from  the  vil- 
lage, the  greater  part  of  whom  stood  crowded  to- 
gether. All  of  them  had  known  Stilling  when 
a  boy  ;  but  as  he  entered,  every  hat  and  cap  was 
thrust  under  the  arms  of  the  wearers,  and  every 
one  regarded  him  with  respect.  Stilling  stood 
and  looked  around;  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
a  faltering  voice,  he  said,  "Welcome,  welcome, 
dear  people,  and  friends  !  God  bless  every  one 
of  you  !  Be  all  of  you  covered,  or  I  will  imme- 
diately leave  the  room;— what  I  am,  is  the  work 
of  God,  and  to  Him  alone  be  the  glory  !"  A 
murmur  of  joy  now  arose;  all  of  them  admired 
and  blessed  him.  The  two  old  men  and  the 
Doctor  then  sat  down  amongst  the  good  people, 
and  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  his  deportment, 
and  every  ear  was  directed  to  his  words.  What 
Father  Stilling's  sons  then  felt,  cannot  be  descri- 
bed. 

But  how  came  it  that  Doctor  Stillingexcitcd  so 
much  attention  ?— and  what  was  the  reason  that 
his  elevation  to  the  rank  of  Doctor  of  Medicine, 
which  was  in  no  respect  any  thing  so  very  won- 
derful, should  excite  such  astonishment'?  There 
were  many  sons  of  peasants,  in  his  native  prov- 
ince, who  had  become  learned  and  worthy  men; 
and  yet  no  one  troubled  himself  about  it.  "When 
we  consider  the  thing  in  its  true  point  of  view, 
we  shall  find  it  verv  natural.  Stilling,  only  nine 
or  ten  years  before,  had  been  schoolmaster 


94  HEINRICH 

amongst  them  ;  he  had  been  universally  regard- 
ed as  a  poor  and  hopeless  youth; — he  had  then 
gone  upon  his  travels;  what  occurred  to  him 
abroad,  he  had  communicated  to  his  uncle  and 
his  father ;  report  had  exalted  every  thing  that 
was  natural  into  something  wonderful,  and  that 
which  was  wonderful  into  something  miracu- 
lous ;  and  hence  it  was,  that  they  sought  to  see 
him  as  a  curiosity.  But  he  humbled  himself 
inwardly  before  God;  he  knew  his  situation  and 
circumstances  better,  and  regretted  that  so  much 
was  made  of  him  ;  however,  it  still  caused  him 
pleasure  that  he  was  not  here  so  mistaken  as  it 
was  his  daily  lot  to  be  in  Schönenthal. 

The  next  morning,  he  set  out  with  his  father 
on  the  way  to  Leindorf.  Johann  Stilling  lent 
his  brother  Wilhelm  his  own  saddle-horse,  and 
went  beside  him  on  foot;  he  would  not  have  it 
otherwise.  Before  reaching  the  village,  whole 
groups  of  youths  and  men  from  Leindorf,  who 
had  formerly  been  his  scholars,  came  about  a 
league  to  meet  him  ;  they  surrounded  his  horse, 
and  accompanied  him.  The  rest  of  the  popula- 
tion of  Leindorf  stood  in  the  meadow  by  the  wa- 
ter, and  the  cries  of  welcome  resounded  from  a 
distance.  He  rode  with  his  father  in  silence, 
and  deeply  abased  and  affected,  into  the  village. 
His  uncle  Johann  then  returned  home.  At  his 
father's  house,  Stilling's  mother  received  him 
very  timidly,  but  his  sisters  embraced  him  with 
many  joyful  tears.  Father  Stilling's  daughters 
came  also  from  Tiefenbach  with  their  sons ; 
people  ran  together  from  all  sides,  so  that  the 
house  was  filled  from  top  to  bottom,  and  the 
whole  day  and  the  following  night  it  was  impos- 
sible to  think  of  repose.  Stilling  let  himself  be 
seen  on  every  side ;  he  spoke  little,  for  his  sen- 
sations were  too  powerful ;  they  continually  af- 
fected his  heart,  and  he  therefore  hastened  his 
departure.  The  next  morning,  he  mounted  his 
horse,  surrounded  by  a  hundred  people,  and  rode 
off  in  the  midst  of  the  shouts  and  cries  of  a  man- 
ifold and  oft-reiterated  farewell !  Scarcely  had 
he  left  the  village,  when  his  attendant  told  him 
that  his  father  was  running  after  him  ;  he  there- 
fore turned  about :  "  I  have  not  yet  taken  leave, 
my  dear  son  !"  said  the  old  man;  he  then  took 
his  left  hand  into  his  two  hands,  wept,  and  stam- 
mered out,  "  The  Almighty  bless  thee  !" 

Stilling  was  now  again  alone,  for  his  attend- 
ant was  on  the  foot-path  at  one  side.  He  then 
began  to  weep  aloud ;  all  his  feelings  streamed 
forth  in  floods  of  tears,  and  gave  vent  to  his 
heart.  Pleasing  as  the  universal  applause  and 
the  affections  of  his  friends,  relatives,  and  coun- 
trymen were  to  him,  yet  it  deeply  grieved  him 
in  his  soul,  that  all  their  rejoicing  was  founded 
on  false  appearances.  "  I  am  not  happy  !  I 
am  not  the  man  I  am  taken  to  be !  I  am  no- 
thing wonderful  in  the  science  of  medicine  ! — 
no  physician  made  so  by  God,  for  I  seldom  cure 
anyone:  if  it  happen,  it  is  a  mere  chance!  I 
am  just  one  of  the  most  every-day  kind,  and  the 
•  most  inexpert  of  my  profession  !  And  what  at 
best  have  I  become,  that  is  so  great  1  I  am  Doc- 
tor of  Medicine,  a  graduated  person  ; — well,  I 
am  therefore  one  of  the  middle  class  ! — no  great 
light,  that  excites  attention,  and  deserves  such 
a  reception!"  These  we^e  Stilling's  loud  and 
perfectly  true  thoughts,  wnich  continually  burst 
forth  like  a  flame  of  fire  from  his  breast,  until  at 
length  he  perceived  the  town  of  Salen  before 
him,  and  composed  himself.  Stilling  did  not 
now  strive  for  honor ;  he  thought  his  station  suf- 
ficiently respectable;  it  was  only  his  disgust  at 


STILLING. 

his  profession,  his  necessities,  and  the  contempt 
in  which  he  lived,  which  made  him  unhappy, 

At  Salen,  Doctor  Stilling  kept  himself  incog- 
nito ;  he  merely  dined  there,  and  rode  to  Dillen- 
burg, where  he  arrived  rather  late  in  the  even- 
ing, and  took  up  his  quarters  with  his  honest 
and  worthy  cousin  Johann  Stilling's  second  son, 
who  was  surveyor  of  the  mines  there.  Both 
were  of  the  same  age,  and  had  been  cordial 
friends  from  their  youth  up ;  it  is  therefore  easy 
to  suppose  how  he  was  received.  After  a  day's 
rest,  he  set  out  again,  and  travelled  by  way  of 
Herborn,  Wetzlar,  Butzbach,  and  Friedberg,  to 
Frankfort,  where  he  arrived  in  the  evening,  and 
took  up  his  abode  with  Goethe's  family,  who 
received  him  in  the  most  friendly  manner. 

The  following  morning,  he  received  Mr.  Von 
Leesner,  and  found  him  to  be  an  excellent  old 
man,  full  of  pleasing  politeness,  united  with  en- 
lightened religious  sentiments.  His  eyes  were 
fit  for  the  operation,  so  that  Stilling  was  enabled 
to  give  him  the  best  hopes ;  and  the  day  was 
fixed  for  extracting  the  cataract.  Stilling  made 
likewise  some  other  important  acquaintances; 
he  visited  the  old  and  celebrated  Doctor  Burgraf, 
who  had  grown  old,  grey,  and  infirm  in  the  most 
extensive  and  successful  practice.  After  this 
excellent  man  had  observed  Stilling  awhile,  he 
said,  "  Sir,  ydti  are  in  the  right  way.  I  heard, 
of  your  invitation  hither,  and  imagined  to  my- 
self a  man  who  would  visit  me  dressed  in  the 
height  of  the  fashion,  and  would,  as  is  common- 
ly the  case,  appear  like  a  charlatan ;  but  I  find 
you  just  the  contrary  to  this ;  you  are  modest  in 
your  behaviour  and  in  your  dress,  and  are  there- 
fore such  a  one  as  he  ought  to  be  who  has  to  ad- 
minister aid  to  those  who  sigh  under  the  rod  of 
the  Almighty.  The  Lord  bless  you !  It  causes 
me  pleasure  still  to  find,  at  the  end  of  my  days, 
men  who  give  every  hope  of  becoming  what 
they  ought  to  be."  Stilling  sighed,  and  thought 
to  himself,  "  Would  to  God  I  were  that  which 
this  great  man  takes  me  to  be  !" 

He  then  visited  the  Rev.  Mr.  Kraft;  his  whole 
soul  harmonized  with  this  worthy  man,  and  an 
intimate  friendship  arose  between  them,  which 
will  continue  beyond  the  present  life. 

Meanwhile,  the  time  for  performing  the  oper- 
ation drew  near.  Stilling  performed  it  quietly, 
without  saying  any  thing  to  any  one,  except  a 
couple  of  surgeons  and  physicians,  who  were 
present  on  the  occasion,  in  order  that  he  might, 
in  every  case,  have  experienced  men  as  wit- 
nesses. Every  thing  succeeded  according  to  his 
wish:  the  patient  saw  and  recognized  all  his 
friends  after  the  operation ;  the  fame  of  it  spread 
through  the  whole  city;  friends  wrote  to  friends 
at  a  distance,  and  Stilling  received  letters  of 
congratulation  from  Schönenthal,  before  he  could 
have  answers  to  his  own.  The  Prince  of  L^w- 
enstein  Wertheim,  the  Duchess  of  Courland, 
born  princess  of  Waldeck,  who  was  at  that  time 
residing  in  Frankfort,  all  the  noble  families 
there,  and,  generally  speaking,  all  those  of  the 
higher  class,  inquired  respecting  the  result  of 
the  operation,  and  sent  every  morning  to  know 
how  the  patient  was. 

Stilling  was  never  more  satisfied  than  at  pres- 
ent; he  saw  how  much  attention  this  cure  would 
excite,  and  what  celebrity,  applause,  respect, 
and  resort,  it  would  cause  him ;  and  people 
began  already  to  talk  of  presenting  him  with 
the  freedom  of  Frankfort,  in  order  to  induce 
him  to  remove  thither.  In  this  expectation  the 
good  doctor  rejoiced  beyond  measure ;  for  he 


STILLIN  G'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


95> 


thought  that  there  his  sphere  of  operation  would 
be  greater,  and  the  public  opinion  less  narrow- 
minded  than  in  Schönenthal ;  that  there  the  con- 
course of  strangers  and  persons  of  rank  was  un- 
interrupted and  great ;  and  that  there  he  could 
earn  something,  and  then  become  the  man  he 
had  desired  to  be  from  his  youth  up. 

Just  at  that  time,  some  other  blind  persons  ar- 
rived. The  first  was  Doctor  Hut,  physician  and 
counsellor  of  state  in  Wiesbaden,  who,  by  taking 
cold,  had  become  entirely  blind  of  one  eye  in  one 
night;  he  lodged  with  his  brother,  counsellor 
and  advocate  Hertz,  of  Frankfort.  Stilling  per- 
formed the  operation,  and  healed  him  success- 
fully. This  was  universally  made  public,  and 
that  very  worthy  man  became  thereby  his  con- 
stant friend ;  particularly,  also,  because  they 
were  of  the  same  sentiments. 

The  second  was  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  dwelling  in 
the  Jews'-street  at  Frankfort ;  he  had  been  long 
blind  of  both  eyes,  and  requested  Stilling  to  come 
to  him.  The  latter  went,  and  found  an  old  man 
of  sixty-eight  years  of  age,  with  a  snow-white 
beard  hanging  down  to  his  girdle.  On  hearing 
that  the  doctor  was  there,  he  rose  from  his  chair 
with  a  tottering  step,  strove  to  find  him,  and  said, 
"Doctor,  look  at  my  eyes!"  He  then  made  a 
grinning  face,  and  pulled  both  his  eyes  wide 
open.  Meanwhile,  a  multitude  of  Jewish  faces 
of  all  kinds  crowded  into  the  room,  and  here  and 
there  a  voice  was  heard,  exclaiming,  "  Silence  ! 
what  will  he  sayl"  Stilling  looked  at  his  eyes, 
and  declared  that,  with  the  help  of  God,  he  should 
be  able  to  assist  him. 

"  Blessings  on  the  gentleman  !"  resounded  from 
all  sides;  "  may  he  live  a  hundred  years !" 

The  Rabbi  now  began :  "  Hush ! — hear  me, 
doctor;  only  one  eye — only  one! — for  if  it  does 
not  succeed — only  one !" 

"Well,"  answered  Stilling,  "  I  will  come  the 
day  after  to-morrow;  and,  as  you  wish,  it  shall 
be  only  one." 

The  next  day  Stilling  performed  the  operation 
on  a  poor  woman  in  the  Jews'  hospital,  and  the 
,  following  morning  on  the  Rabbi.  The  same  day, 
being  at  Mr.  Von  Leesner's,  he  was  called  to  the 
house-door ;  he  there  found  a  poor  beggar  Jew, 
of  about  sixty  years  of  age,  who  was  completely 
blind  of  both  eyes,  and  therefore  sought  help ;  he 
was  led  by  his  son,  a  good-looking  youth  of  six- 
teen years  of  age.  The  poor  man  wept,  and  said, 
"  Ah,  dear  doctor,  I  and  my  wife  have  ten  living 
children ;  1  was  an  industrious  man,  have  travel- 
led about  much,  and  maintained  them  honestly ; 
but  now,  alas  llama  beggar,  and  all  my  chil- 
dren beg ;  and  you  know  how  it  is  with  us  Jews." 
Stilling  was  inwardly  affected;  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  he  seized  his  two  hands,  pressed  them,  and 
said,  "With  the  Lord's  help,  you  shall  have 
your  sight  again."  The  Jew  and  his  son  wept 
aloud,  and  would  have  fallen  upon  their  knees, 
but  Stilling  did  not  suffer  them,  and  continued, 
"  Where  will  you  take  up  your  quarters  1  I  will 
take  nothing  from  you,  but  you  must  stay  here 
a  fortnight."  "  Ah,  good  heaven !"  answered  he, 
"  that  will  be  a  difficult  matter;  many  rich  Jews 
reside  here,  but  they  do  not  receive  strangers." 
Stilling  rejoined,  "  Come  to-morrow,  at  nine 
o'clock,  to  the  Jews'  hospital ;  I  will  there  speak 
with  the  managers." 

Accordingly,  whilst  Stilling  was  binding  up 
the  poor  woman's  eyes,  the  blind  man  arrived 
with  his  son;  the  whole  room  was  filled  with 
Jews,  both  high  and  low  mingled  together.  The 
blind  man  now  pleaded  his  case  most  piteously, 


but  he  found  no  hearing;  these  hard-hearted 
people  had  no  feeling  for  the  extreme  wretched- 
ness of  their  brother.  Stilling  was  silent  until 
he  perceived  that  begging  and  praying  were  of 
no  avail;  but  he  then  began  to  speak  seriously ; 
he  sharply  reproved  them  for  their  unmerciful- 
ness,  and  solemnly  affirmed  before  them,  that  he 
would  immediately  abandon  the  Rabbi  and  the 
patient  he  had  in  hand,  and  do  nothing  more  for 
them,  unless  the  poor  man  was  regularly  and 
conveniently  lodged  for  a  fortnight,  and  duly 
supported.  This  had  its  effect;  for  in  less  than 
two  hours  the  poor  Jew  had  all  that  he  needed, 
in  an  inn  near  the  Jews'-street. 

Stilling  now  paid  him  a  visit.  The  Jew, 
though  pleased  by  the  hope  of  cure,  showed  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  apprehension  of  the  op- 
eration, so  that  Stilling  began  to  fear  it  might 
prove  prejudicial  to  the  cure;  he  therefore  took 
other  measures,  and  said,  "  I  will  postpone  the 
operation  for  a  few  days ;  but  to-morrow  I  must 
rub  and  brighten  the  eyes  a  little;  this  will  not 
give  you  pain;  we  will  afterwards  see  what  is 
to  be  done;"  with  which  the  poor  man  was  well 
satisfied. 

The  next  morning,  therefore,  he  took  the  sur- 
geon and  some  friends  with  him.  The  Jew  was 
in  good  spirits,  sat  down,  and  opened  his  eyes 
widely.  Stilling  took  the  instrument,  and  oper- 
ated on  one  of  his  eyes ;  as  soon  as  the  lens  was 
extracted,  the  Jew  exclaimed,  "  I  believe  the 
gentleman  has  done  the  job !  O  heaven !  I  see  T 
I  see  every  thing!  Joel,  Joel  (for  so  his  son 
was  called),  go  and  kiss  his  feet!"  Joel  cried 
aloud,  fell  down,  and  would  have  kissed  them  j 
but  he  was  not  permitted. 

"  Well,  well !"  continued  the  Jew,  "  I  would  I 
had  a  million  of  eyes  ;  I  would  have  them 
couched,  one  after  the  other,  for  sixpence  each !" 
In  short,  the  Jew  regained  his  sight  perfectly  j 
and  on  taking  his  departure,  he  ran  through  the 
streets,  with  his  arms  stretched  out,  and  over  fhev 
Saxonhäuser  bridge,  exclaiming  incessantly,  "  O 
good  people,  thank  God  for  me !  I  was  blind, 
and  am  now  able  to  see !  God  grant  long  life  to 
the  doctor,  that  he  may  be  able  to  cure  many 
blind  people !"  Stilling  performed  the  operation 
on  seven  other  persons  besides  Mr.  Von  Lees- 
ner,  and  all  received  their  sight ;  however,  none 
of  them  were  able  to  pay  him  any  thing,  except 
Doctor  Hut,  who  richly  rewarded  him  for  his 
trouble. 

But  now  began  all  at  once  the  most  dreadful 
period  of  Stilling's  life,  which  lasted  uninter- 
ruptedly for  more  than  seven  years.  Notwith- 
standing all  his  efforts,  Mr.  Von  Leesner  did  not 
recover  his  sight;  his  eyes  began  to  inflame  and 
suppurate;  several  physicians  came  to  his  as- 
sistance, but  all  was  unavailing;  pain,  and  the 
fear  of  incurable  blindness,  dashed  every  hope  to 
the  ground. 

Stilling  thought  it  impossible  to  survive  this  • 
he  wrestled  with  God  for  help,  but  all  in  vain  • 
every  friendly  countenance  vanished,  all  drew 
back,  and  Stilling  continued  alone  in  his  sorrow. 
His  friend  Goethe  and  his  parents  sought  to  en- 
courage him,  but  it  was  of  no  avail;  he  saw 
nothing  before  him  but  horrors ;  sympathy  from 
his  friends,  which  could  render  him  no  service  ; 
and,  on  the  contrary,  abundance  of  scorn  and 
contempt,  by  which  all  his  further  practice  would 
be  rendered  difficult.  He  now  began  to  doubt 
whether  God  had  called  him  to  the  medical  pro- 
fession; he  feared  he  had  still  perhaps  followed 
his  own  impulse,  and  would  have  to  drudge  du- 


96 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


ring  his  whole  life  at  a  vocation  which  was  ex- 
tremely repugnant  to  him.  His  needy  circum- 
stances presented  themselves  again,  in  a  lively  j 
manner,  to  his  soul;  he  trembled,  and  only  a 
secret  confidence  in  the  paternal  providence  of 
God,  which  was  almost  imperceptible  to  him- 
self, supported  him,  so  that  he  did  not  entirely 
fall  to  the  ground. 

As  he  was  once  sitting  with  Mr.  Von  Leesner, 
and  lamenting,  with  tears,  the  unsuccessful  re- 
sult of  the  operation,  the  worthy  man  said,  "Be 
satisfied,  dear  doctor;  it  was  good  lor  me,  and 
therefore  also  the  will  of  God,  that  1  should  remain 
blind;  but  it  was  necessary  I  should  undertake 
the  thing,  and  pay  you  the  thousand  guilders, 
that  other  poor  people  might  be  healed."  Still- 
ing personally  received  the  thousand  guilders; 
he  took  them  sorrowfully,  and  after  a  residence 
of  eight  weeks,  returned  to  Schönenthal.  Every 
thing  was  tranquil  there;  all  his  friends  com- 
passionated him,  and  avoided  speaking  of  the 
matter  as  much  as  possible.  The  worthy  The- 
odore Müller,  who  had  counselled  him  so  faith- 
fully, had  during  the  time,  to  his  great  sorrow, 
entered  the  eternal  world;  but  the  generality  of 
people,  and  particularly  the  lower  class,  scoffed 
at  him  unceasingly;  "I  well  knew,"  said  they, 
t( how  the  thing  would  terminate;  the  fellow  has 
learnt  nothing,  and  yet  he  is  always  striving  to 
rise  above  others;  the  coxcomb  is  rightly  served, 
by  thus  running  his  head  against  the  wall." 

Now  though  Stilling  was  desirous  of  setting 
himself  above  all  this,  yet  it  aided  in  preventing 
any  more  resort  to  him.  The  families  he  previ- 
ously attended  had,  during  his  absence,  provided 
themselves  with  other  physicians,  and  no  one 
seemed  inclined  to  return  to  him.  In  a  word, 
Selling's  practice  became  very  small ;  people 
began  to  forget  him;  his  debts  increased,  for  the 
thousand  guilders  were  insufficient  to  discharge 
them,  and  his  grief  in  consequence  was  un- 
bounded. He  concealed  it,  indeed,  from  the 
whole  world,  as  much  as  he  was  able,  but  it 
was  so  much  the  more  difficult  for  him  to  bear. 
Even  the  Friedenberg  family  began  to  be  cold  to 
him,  for  his  own  father-in-law  began  to  believe 
that  he  could  not  be  a  good  housekeeper.  He 
was  obliged  to  listen  to  many  a  grave  admoni- 
tion;  and  was  often  reminded  that  the  sum  of 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  which  had  been  expended 
on  his  studies,  and  in  instruments,  necessary 
books,  and  the  most  requisite  household  furni- 
ture, and  for  which  Mr.  Friedenberg  had  become 
security,  must  soon  be  paid.  Stilling  had  not 
the  smallest  prospect  of  this;  it  pained  him  to 
his  inmost  soul,  trial  he  who  gave  him  his  child 
whilst  he  was  still  without  a  vocation,  and  even 
without  bread,  who  with  him  had  unreservedly 
trusted  Providence,  should  now  begin  to  totter. 
Christina  also  felt  this  change  in  her  father  se- 
verely; but  she  began  to  exhibit  an  heroic  cour- 
age, which  was  really  remarkable :  and  this 
was  quite  requisite,  for  without  this  uncommon 
strength  she  must,  as  one  of  the  weaker  sex, 
have  succumbed  under  her  trials. 

Notwithstanding  the  desperate  situation  of 
his  affairs,  however,  what  was  needful  never 
failed  him;  Stilling  had  never  any  thing  before- 
hand, but,  when  it  was  required,  it  was  there. 
This  strengthened  the  faith  of  both  ;  so  that  they 
were  enabled  still  to  bear  up  under  their  suffer- 
ings. 

In  the  spring  of  1775,  Christina  again  bore  a  son, 
who,  however,  died  four  weeks  afterwards.  She 
suffered  extremely  in  this  confinement.  One 


morning  Stilling  saw  her  lying  in  a  state  of  pro- 
found siupor;  he  was  terrified,  and  asked  her  what 
was  the  matter.  She  answered,  "According  to 
circumstances,  I  am  well ;  but  I  have  a  dreadful 
conflict  within;  let  me  alone,  until  I  have  over- 
come." He  waited  with  the  greatest  anxiety  for 
the  time  of  explanation  upon  this  point.  Af- 
ter two  melancholy  days,  she  called  him  to 
her,  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  said,  -"Dear  hus- 
band, I  have  now  overcome,  and  I  will  tell  thee 
all!  I  have  struggled  for  two  days  with  God 
and  myself  for  my  dissolution,  and  have  fer- 
vently entreated  Him  to  take  me  to  himself, 
in  order  that  thou  mayest  be  able  to  marry  an- 
other wife,  that  shall  be  more  suitable  for' thee 
than  I."  This  scene  pierced  his  very  soul. 
"No,  my  dear  wife,"  said  he,  while  pressing 
her  to  his  beating  heart,  "  thou  shalt  not  struggle 
on  this  account,  much  less  pray  for  thy  death; 
live,  and  be  only  of  good  courage." 

The  following  summer,  Stilling  received  a  let- 
ter from  his  friend  Doctor  Hoffmann,  of  Frank- 
fort, in  which  it  was  mentioned  in  confidence, 
that  Mr.  Von  Leesner  deeply  felt  his  incurable 
blindness,  and  sometimes  expressed  distrust  re- 
specting his  oculist.  Now  as  he  had  been  paid 
in  such  a  princely  manner,  it  would  be  setting 
the  crown  upon  his  good  fame,  if  he  would 
pay  Mr.  Von  Leesner  another  visit  at  his  own 
expense,  in  order  that  nothing  might  be  left  un- 
tried. Meanwhile,  he,  Mr.  Hoffmann,  would 
again  insert  his  intended  visit  in  the  newspa- 
pers, and  perhaps  the  expense  would  be  richly 
repaid  him.  Stilling  felt  the  nobleness  of  the 
plan,  if  it  could  be  accomplished;  even  Chris- 
tina advised  him  to  undertake  the  journey,  but 
no  one  besides;  every  one  was  against  the  prop- 
osition. However,  he  followed  merely  his  feel- 
ing of  justice  and  propriety;  he  found  a  friend 
who  advanced  him  a  hundred  dollars  for  the 
journey ;  and  thus  he  travelled  by  the  stage  once 
more  to  Frankfort,  where  he  again  took  up  his 
residence  with  Goethe. 

Mr.  Von  Leesner  was  extremely  affected  by 
this  unlooked-for  visit,  and  it  had  the  desired 
effect.  Several  individuals,  also,  who  were  suf- 
fering from  the  cataract,  presented  themselves, 
on  all  of  whom  Stilling  performed  the  operation ; 
some  recovered  their  sight,  others  did  not;  but 
none  of  them  were  in  a  condition  to  repay  his 
expenses.  This  journey,  therefore,  plunged  him 
a  hundred  dollars  deeper  in  debt;  he  resided, 
also,  this  time,  eight  melancholy  weeks  in  Frank- 
fort. 

During  this  period,  Stilling  committed  an  im- 
prudence of  which  he  often  repented,  and  which 
caused  him  much  vexation.  He  found  at  a 
friend's  house,  "  The  Life  and  Opinions  of  Ma- 
gister Sebaldus  Nothanker."  He  took  the  book 
and  read  it  through.  The  bitter  satire,  the  rid- 
icule cast  upon  the  pietists,  and  even  upon  truly 
pious  men,  pained  him  to  the  soul.  Although 
he  himself  was  not  satisfied  with  the  pietists, 
and  had  to  suffer  many  things  from  them,  yet  he 
could  not  bear  them  to  be  ridiculed  ;  for  it  was 
his  opinion,  that  faults  in  religion  must  be  wept 
over  and  lamented,  but  not  held  up  to  scorn  and 
contempt,  because  in  this  manner  religion  itself 
is  ridiculed.  These  sentiments  were  certainly 
very  correct;  but  the  step  which  Stilling  ventu- 
red to  take  was  not  less  hasty.  He  wrote  from 
the  impulse  of  the  moment  "The  Sling  of  a 
Shepherd's  Boy  against  the  scornful  Philistine, 
the  author  of  Sebaldus  Nothanker;"  and  with- 
out even  once  going  through  the  manuscript 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


97 


coolly  again,  he  gave  it,  glowing  hot,  to  Eichen- 
berg the  publisher.  His  friend  Kraft  strongly 
advised  him  not  to  print  it ;  but  it  was  of  no 
avail, — it  was  published. 

Scarcely  had  he  returned  to  Schönenthal,  be- 
fore he  repented  of  the  step  he  had  taken.  He 
now  reflected  on  what  he  had  done,  and  what 
weighty  enemies  he  had  made  himself  by  this 
means ;  besides,  he  had  not  sufficiently  devel- 
oped his  principles,  and  he  was  afraid  that  the 
public  might  regard  him  as  stupidly  orthodox. 
He  therefore  wrote  a  little  tract  under  the  title  of 
"  The  great  Panacea  for  the  disease  of  Infidel- 
ity," which  was  also  printed  by  the  same  pub- 
lisher. In  the  mean  time  a  defender  of  Sebal- 
dus  Nothanker  appeared ;  for  a  certain  mer- 
chant in  the  Netherlands  wrote  against  "  The 
Sling."  This  occasioned  Stilling  to  seize  the 
pen  once  more,  and  publish  "  The  Shepherd- 
boy's  Theory,  in  rectification  and  defence  of  his 
Sling."  In  this  work  he  acted  gently ;  he  begged 
pardon  of  the  author  of-Nothanker  lor  his  vio- 
lence, without  however  recanting  the  least  of  his 
principles;  he  then  sought  to  impart  correct 
ideas  of  his  sentiments  to  his  opponent  the 
Netherlands  merchant,  avoiding  at  the  same 
time  all  bitterness,  as  much  as  was  possible, 
with  the  exception  of  a  little  innocent  raillery : 
with  this  the  whole  affair  terminated. 

About  this  time,  two  institutions  were  estab- 
lished in  Schönenthal,  in  which  Stilling  took  a 
prominent  part.  A  number  of  worthy  and  en- 
lightened men  formed  a  private  society,  which 
met  on  the  Wednesday  evenings,  in  order  mutu- 
ally to  improve  themselves  by  the  perusal  of 
useful  writings,  and  by  conversation  on  a  vari- 
ety of  subjects.  He  that  had  the  desire  and  abil- 
ity, was  also  at  liberty  to  read  lectures.  By 
means  of  fixed  subscriptions,  a  library  of  select 
books  was  gradually  collected,  and  the  whole  in- 
stitution rendered  generally  useful.  It  still  ex- 
ists and  flourishes,  and  is  become  since  that 
time  still  more  numerous  and  prosperous. 

Stilling,  who  was  one  of  its  first  members,  to- 
gether with  his  constant  friends,  Troost  and 
Dinkier,  had  here  an  opportunity  of  displaying 
his  talents,  and  of  making  himself  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  most  excellent  of  his  fellow- 
townsmen.  In  the  meetings  of  this  private  so- 
ciety, he  read  a  lecture  upon  Physics,  in  which 
he  took  "  Euler's  Letters  to  a  German  Princess" 
as  the  basis :  by  this  he  recommended  himself 
uncommonly;  all  the  members  became  fond  of 
him,  and  supported  him  in  a  variety  of  ways. 
It  is  true,  his  debts  were  not  by  this  means  di- 
minished; on  the  contrary,  the  absence  of  prac- 
tice increased  them  daily ;  they  would,  howev- 
er, have  been  still  greater,  if  Stilling  had  pur- 
chased all  that  was  presented  him  by  these  wor- 
thy men. 

The  second  institution  had  reference  to  a  min- 
eral spring,  which  had  been  discovered  in  the 
vicinity  of  Schönenthal.  Dinkier,  Troost,  and 
Stilling,  carried  on  the  affair;  and  the  latter  was 
appointed  physician  to  the  establishment  by  the 
magistracy.  He  received,  indeed,  no  salary; 
but  his  practice  was  in  some  degree  increased, 
though  not  to  such  an  extent  as  to  enable  him  to 
meet  his  regular  expenditure,  much  less  to  pay 
his  debts. 

His  participation  in  these  two  institutions  ir- 
ritated the  pietists  against  him  still  more.  They 
saw  that  he  associated  more  and  more  with  the 
people  of  the  world,  and  there  was  therefore  no 
end  to  their  reasonings  and  their  calumnies.  It 
N 


is  lamentable,  that  this  otherwise  worthy  class 
of  people  so  little  observe  the  great  precept  of 
Jesus,  whom  they  so  highly  honor  in  other  re- 
spects— "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged."  All 
their  good  qualities  are  thereby  destroyed;  and 
their  judgment,  on  the  great  day,  like  the  judg- 
ment of  the  pharisees,  will  be  severe.  I  here 
solemnly  except  the  noble  and  upright  amongst 
them,  who  are  the  salt  of  the  earth;  they  are  de- 
serving of  respect,  love,  and  forbearance ;  and 
may  my  end  be  like  theirs ! 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1776,  Stilling  was 
under  the  necessity  of  removing  to  another  hab- 
itation, because  his  landlord  wished  to  occupy 
his  house  himself.  Mr.  Troost  therefore  sought 
and  found  one  for  him  ;  it  lay  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  town,  on  the  way  to  Rüsselstein,  near  a 
number  of  gardens;  it  wasenchantingly  beauti- 
ful and  convenient.  Stilling  rented  it,  and  made 
preparations  for  removing  into  it.  But  here  he 
had  a  dreadful  trial  to  sustain  ;  he  had  hitherto 
been  able  to  pay  the  seventy  dollars  house-rent 
regularly  every  year;  but  he  had  not  at  that  time 
a  single  farthing  in  hand,  and,  according  to  the 
law,  he  was  not  permitted  to  remove  until  the 
rent  was  duly  paid.  The  want  of  credit  and 
money  likewise  rendered  him  timid  in  requesting 
his  landlord  to  have  a  little  patience  ;  there  was, 
however,  no  other  remedy.  Oppressed  with  ex- 
treme sorrow,  he  therefore  went  to  him,  and  be- 
sought his  landlord,  who  was  a  worthy  and  up- 
right merchant,  but  punctual  and  severe,  to  al- 
low him  a  little  more  time.  The  merchant  re- 
flected a  little,  and  said,  "  Remove,  if  you  choose ; 
but  with  the  condition  that  you  pay  in  a  fort- 
night." Stilling,  firmly  confiding  in  the  Divine 
aid,  promised  to  settle  every  thing  by  that  time, 
and  removed  into  his  new  habitation.  The 
cheerfulness  of  the  house,  the  prospect  of  the 
beauties  of  nature,  the  convenient  accommoda- 
tion, and  in  short,  every  circumstance,  certainly 
contributed  much  to  alleviate  his  painful  feel- 
ings ;  but  the  difficulty  itself  was  not  yet  remo- 
ved, and  the  gnawing  worm  remained. 

The  end  of  the  fourteen  days  drew  near,  and 
there  was  not  the  slightest  appearance  of  ob- 
taining the  seventy  dollars.  The  iron  now  again 
entered  into  poor  Slilling's  soul ;  he  often  ran  up 
to  his  chamber,  fell  upon  his  face,  wept,  and  en- 
treated help  of  God;  and  when  his  voeation 
called  him  away,  Christina  took  his  place ;  she 
wept  aloud,  and  prayed  with  such  fervour  of 
spirit  as  might  have  moved  a  stone ;  but  there 
was  no  trace  of  obtaining  so  much  money.  At 
length  the  dreadful  Friday  arrived;  both  prayed 
incessantly,  the  whole  morning,  during  their  oc- 
cupations, and  their  heart-rending  anxiety  caus- 
ed ardent  ejaculations  to  ascend  continually. 

At  ten  o'clock,  the  postman  entered  the  door : 
in  one  hand  he  held  his  receipt-book,  and  in  the 
other  a  letter,  the  contents  of  which  were  heavy. 
Stilling  took  it,  full  of  expectation;  the  super- 
scription was  in  Goethe's  hand,  and  under  the  ad- 
dress was  written,  "  Enclosing  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  rix-dollars  in  gold."  He  broke  open  the 
letter  with  astonishment,  read  it,  and  found  that 
his  friend  Göethe,  without  his  knowledge,  had 
caused  the  commencement  of  his  history  to  be 
published,  under  the  title  of  "  Selling's  Youth," 
and  this  was  the  sum  obtained  for  the  copy- 
right. Stilling  quickly  signed  the  receipt,  in  or- 
der to  send  the  postman  away;  the  married 
couple  then  fell  upon  each  other's  necks,  wept 
aloud,  and  praised  God  for  his  signal  interposi- 
tion.  During  Stilling's  last  journey  to  Frank- 


98  HEINRICH 

fort,  Göethe  had  received  his  call  to  Weimar,  and 
had  there  procured  the  publication  of  Stilling's 
history. 

It  cannot  be  expressed  what  a  powerful  effect 
this  visible  interference  of  Divine  providence 
produced  on  the  hearts  of  Stilling  and  his  con- 
sort. They  firmly  and  unhesitatingly  resolved 
never  to  waver  any  more,  but  to  endure  every 
suffering  with  patience  ;  they  also  perceived,  in 
the  light  of  truth,  that  the  Father  of  men  led 
them  by  the  hand,  that  therefore  their  path  and 
course  were  right  before  God,  and  that  he  in- 
tended by  such  trials  to  prepare  them  for  higher 
purposes.  Oh,  how  feeble  and  disgusting  to  one 
who  has  had  so  much  experience  of  this  kind, 
is  the  sophistry  of  modern  philosophers,  when 
they  assert,  "  That  God  does  not  trouble  him- 
self with  the  detail,  but  merely  with  the  total ; 
that  He  has  fixed  the  plan  of  the  world,  and 
that  therefore  prayer  cannot  alter  it."  O  ye 
daubers  with  untempered  mortar  !  how  much 
the  ancient  abomination  glimmers  through ! 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  governor  of  the  world;  Still- 
ing called  upon  Him  a  hundred  times,  and  he 
was  heard  by  Him.  He  led  him  up  the  dark, 
and  dangerous,  and  precipitous  ascent,  and — but 
I  will  not  forestall  myself.  What  avail  sophis- 
tical cobwebs  of  correct  and  logical  inferences, 
where  one  experience  follows  the  footsteps  of 
another  !  In  the  sequel  of  this  history,  still  more 
striking  proofs  of  a  direct  providence  will  ap- 
pear. 

Stilling's  friendship  with  Göethe,  and  the  visit 
of  the  latter  to  Schönenthal,  were  so  bitterly  spo- 
ken against  by  those  who  professed  to  be  the 
elect  of  God,  that  they  shuddered  at  him  as  though 
he  were  an  infidel,  and  reviled  Stilling  because 
he  associated  with  him ;  and  yet  the  matter  was 
according  to  the  plan  and  arrangement  of  Eter- 
nal Love,  to  try  its  pupil,  to  convince  him  of 
its  fidelity,  and  to  promote  his  advancement. 
Yet  none  of  those  who  thus  calumniated  him, 
were  feeling  enough  to  assist  Stilling  with  a 
farthing.  Those  who  are  called  men  of  the 
world,  were  most  frequently  the  blessed  instru- 
ments in  God's  hand,  when  He  intended  to  aid 
and  instruct  Stilling. 

I  have  said  and  written  it  a  hundred  times, 
and  am  not  weary  of  repeating  it :  "  Let  him  that 
is  desirous  of  being  a  true  servant  of  God,  not 
separate  himself  from  men  except  on  account  of 
sin ;  let  him  not  join  any  particular  society, 
which  professes  for  its  object  to  serve  God  better 
than  others ;  for  in  the  consciousness  of  this 
better  serving  Him  they  gradually  become  proud, 
mean-spirited,  hypocritical  in  appearance,  and 
frequently  so  in  reality,  and  therefore  an  abomi- 
nation in  the  sight  of  a  pure  and  holy  God.  I 
have  known  many  such  societies,  and  yet  they 
always  crumbled  to  the  dust,  with  derision,  and 
were  a  reproach  to  religion.  Young  man,  wilt 
thou  tread  the  true  path  1  Distinguish  thyself 
by  nothing  but  purity  of  life  and  noble  actions  ; 
confess  Jesus  Christ  by  faithfully  following  His 
life  and  doctrine,  and  only  speak  of  Him  where 
it  is  necessary,  and  where  it  may  edify ;  but  then, 
be  not  ashamed  of  Him.  Trust  Him  in  every 
situation  of  life,  and  pray  to  Him  with  confi- 
dence ;  He  will  assuredly  lead  thee  to  the  de- 
sired aim." 

About  this  time,  Counsellor  Eisenhart  of  Man- 
heim, a  person  of  great  activity  and  powerfully 
operative  mind,  had  formed  a  society,  in  the  an- 
cient city  of  Rittersburg,  in  Austrasia,  for  the 
purposes  of  civil  and  political  science.    It  con- 


STILLING. 

sisted  of  a  number  of  learned  and  intelligent  mea, 
who  associated  themselves  together  for  the  pur- 
pose of  promoting  agriculture,  manufactures,  and 
trade,  and  by  this  means,  rendering  both  prince 
and  people  prosperous.  The  Elector  had  also 
patronized  and  sanctioned  this  excellent  institu- 
tion, and  had  provided  it  with  certain  revenues, 
that  it  might  be  able  to  proceed  the  more  effect- 
ually. Now  this  society  had  commenced  a 
manufactory  of  chamois  leather :  Eisenhart  was 
acquainted  with  Stilling,  for  the  latter  had  vis- 
ited him  on  his  way  from  Strasburg  to  Schön- 
enthal. As  the  manufacture  above-mentioned 
flourished  exceedingly  at  the  latter  place,  Eisen- 
hart wrote  to  him,  and  requested  him  to  make 
himself  acquainted  with  the  various  modes  and 
processes  by  which  the  fabric  might  be  brought 
to  perfection,  and  to  give  him  information  on. 
the  subject. 

Much  as  Stilling  was  pleased  with  the  insti- 
tution, and  much  as  he  rejoiced  at  its  prosperity, 
yet  this  commission,  which  was  to  make  him 
serve  as  a  spy,  seemed  dangerous  to  him ;  for  he 
had  reason  to  fear  the  Schönenthal  people  might 
at  length  hear  of  the  affair,  and  then  his  misery 
would  be  boundless.  He  therefore  wrote  to  Mr. 
Eisenhart,  in  a  very  friendly  manner,  and  rep- 
resented to  him  the  danger  in  which  he  would 
plunge  himself  by  such  a  step  ;  but  inquired,  at 
the  same  time,  whether  he  could  not  be  of  ser- 
vice to  the  institution  by  a  variety  of  useful  es- 
says ;  for  he  had  collected  practical  experience 
in  the  science  of  political  economy.  Eisenhart 
soon  replied  to  him,  and  assured  him  that  such 
treatises  would  be  very  welcome.  Stilling  there- 
fore appiled  himself  to  the  work  ;  and  wrote  out 
one  treatise  after  another,  sending  them  to  Mr. 
Eisenhart  the  director,  who  caused  them  to  be 
read  to  the  society  at  Rittersburg. 

Stilling's  labours  met  with  very  unexpected 
approbation ;  and  he  was  soon  honored  with  a 
patent  as  foreign  member  of  the  Electoral  Pala- 
tine Society  of  Political  Economy.  This  pleas- 
ed him  uncommonly;  for  although  the  whole 
connection,  together  with  the  honor  he  enjoyed 
from  it,  brought  him  no  emolument,  yet  he  ex- 
perienced a  real  joy  in  occupations  of  this  na- 
ture, which  had  such  immediate  reference  to  the 
best  interests  of  mankind. 

Stilling  was  respected  on  account  of  the  histo- 
ry of  his  life,  and  his  treatises.  He  now  began 
to  be  known  as  a  not  altogether  unpopular  au- 
thor ;  and  he  felt  encouraged  to  continue  the  his- 
tory of  his  life  to  the  period  of  his  settlement  in 
Schonenthal.  This  also  yielded  him  something, 
and  thus  alleviated  his  domestic  circumstances; 
but  his  debts  still  continued,  and  were  even  in 
some  measure  increased.  But  who  could  have 
imagined  that  this  work  caused  him  to  be  sus- 
pected in  Schönenthal  of  infidelity  !  It  is  in- 
comprehensible, but  certainly  true  ;  he  was  call- 
ed a  hero  of  romance,  a  fantastical  fellow;  and 
principles  were  pretended  to  be  discovered  in 
the  work  which  were  diametrically  opposed  to 
the  system  of  the  reformed  church  ;  and  he  was- 
declared  to  be  a  man  without  religion.  To  ob- 
literate this  suspicion,  he  wrote  "  The  History 
of  Mr.  Von  Morgenthau."  But  this  availed 
little  or  nothing ;  he  continued  to  be  despised, 
and  a  constant  object  of  calumny,  which  in  the 
autumn  of  the  year  1777  reached  the  highest 
summit  of  wickedness.  Stilling  began  all  at 
once  to  perceive  that  as  he  passed  along  the 
street,  people  regarded  him  with  a  fixed  eye,  and 
observed  him  awhile ;  as  he  walked  on,  they  ran 


STILLING'S  DO 


MESTIC  LIFE. 


99 


to  the  windows,  looked  inquisitively  at  him,  and 
then  whispered  to  one  another,  "  See,  there  he 
goes!  poor  man!"  &c.*  This  conduct  from  ev- 
ery quarter  was  incomprehensible  to  him,  and 
pierced  him  through  and  through ;  when  he 
spoke  with  any  one,  he  observed  how  first  one 
considered  him  attentively,  and  how  another 
turned  himself  sorrowfully  away;  he  therefore 
went  rarely  out,  grieved  profoundly  in  secret, 
and  seemed  to  himself  to  be  like  an  apparition, 
of  which  every  one  is  afraid,  and  tries  to  avoid. 
No  one  can  form  an  idea  of  this  new  species  of 
suffering ;  it  is  too  singular,  but  likewise  so  in- 
tolerable that  it  requires  very  peculiar  power  to 
be  able  to  endure  it.  He  now  observed  also, 
that  scarcely  any  more  patients  came  to  him; 
and  it  therefore  seemed  as  it  were  entirely  over 
with  him.  This  dreadful  state  of  things  lasted 
a  fortnight. 

At  length,  one  afternoon,  his  landlord  entered 
the  door,  sat  down,  looking  at  Doctor  Stilling 
with  fixed  and  tearful  eyes,  and  said,  i!  Doctor, 
do  not  take  it  amiss— my  regard  for  you  impels 
me  to  mention  something  to  you.  Only  think — 
the  report  is  spreading  in  Schönenthal,  that  last 
Saturday  fortnight,  in  the  evening,  you  became 
all  at  once  insane ;  and  although  it  is  not  seen 
outwardly,  yet  that  you  have  completely  lost 
your  senses;  therefore  all  your  patients  have 
been  warned  not  to  employ  you;  but  now  tell 
me,  how  is  it  with  you"?  I  have  paid  strict  at- 
tention to  you,  and  have  perceived  nothing." 

Christina  covered  her  face  with  her  apron, 
weeping  aloud,  and  hastened  away;  but  Stilling 
stood  astonished.  Grief,  vexation,  and  innu- 
merable feelings  of  every  kind,  ascended  so 
powerfully  from  his  heart  to  his  head,  that  he 
might  have  become  insane  in  reality,  if  his  con- 
stitutional temperament  and  his  inward  organi- 
2ation  had  not  been  so  extremely  regular. 

Tears  shot  from  his  eyes,  and  feelings  from 
his  soul,  with  an  indescribable  effect,  composed 
of  the  supremely  ridiculous  and  the  deepest  mel- 
ancholy; and  he  said,  "Certainly  no  Adrame- 
lech  could  ever  have  invented  such  wickedness ! 
It  is  more  than  devilish !  Nor  could  any  one 
have  undertaken  any  thing  with  more  satanic 
cunning,  completely  to  deprive  me  of  my  main- 
tenance ;  but  God,  my  avenger  and  my  provider, 
still  lives.  He  will  deliver  me,  and  provide  for 
me !  I  will  give  account  to  no  man  with  regard 
to  my  sanity  ;  let  myself  and  my  actions  be  ob- 
served, and  it  will  be  apparent.  The  whole  af- 
fair is  so  extraordinary,  so  inhumanly  wicked, 
that  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said  upon  it." 
"  Do  not  take  it  amiss  of  me,  dear  Doctor,"  con- 
tinued the  landlord ;  "  my  attachment  to  you  im- 
pelled me  to  inform  you  of  it."  "  No,"  rejoined 
Stilling ;  "  I  thank  you  for  doing  so." 

The  report  now  gradually  disappeared,  as 
some  pestiferous  monster  steals  away ;  but  the 
effect  remained,  and  Stilling  and  his  suffering 
consort  felt  the  atmosphere  of  Schönenthal  in- 
fected ;  his  practice  diminished  still  more,  and 
with  it  the  hope  of  being  able  to  support  himself. 
Where  the  horrible  calumny  originated,  and 
who  had  hatched  the  basilisk,  which  kills  with 
its  look,  remains  for  the  great  day  of  revelation. 
Stilling  himself  never  learned  with  certainty 
from  whence  it  sprang;  he  had,  however,  his 
suspicions,  which  were  founded  on  the  highest 
probability;  but  he  takes  care  not  to  give  the 
slightest  hint  on  the  subject.  The  whole  affair 
was  in  general  not  much  taken  notice  of,  for 
Stilling  was  not  of  sufficient  importance;  he 


was  no  merchant,  much  less  did  he  possess 
wealth;  hence  it  was  of  little  consequence  what 
became  of  him. 

My  readers  will  allow  me  to  dwell  a  little 
upon  this  cruel  affair,  and  describe  to  them  the 
peculiar  condition  in  which  Stilling  was  now 
placed  ;  for  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  have 
a  correct  idea  of  his  situation. 

Stilling  and  his  consort  had,  as  before  observ- 
ed, not  the  smallest  property,  and,  consequently, 
not  the  least  real  credit.  Besides  his  medical 
practice  he  had  no  vocation,  and  no  means  of 
gaining  money;  nor  had  he  either  ability  or  dis- 
position for  the  latter,  and  still  less  desire ;  he 
was  not  wanting  in  knowledge,  but  in  the  art  of 
turning  it  to  account.  To  be  obliged  to  found 
the  healing  of  diseases,  where  life  or  death  is  the 
stake  (and  let  the  reader  reflect  what  is  implied 
in  this),  on  unceasing  suppositions — and  where 
has  the  physician,  unless  he  is  likewise  a  sur- 
geon, sure  grounds'? — did  not  suit  Stilling.  He 
was  therefore  fit  for  any  thing  rather  than  a  prac- 
tical physician;  and  yet  he  was  nothing  else, 
and  knew  of  no  other  means  of  subsistence.  At 
the  same  time,  it  was  Providence  which  had  led 
him  to  this  vocation:  what  a  contrast;  what  a 
contradiction ;  what  a  trial  of  the  steadfastness 
of  his  faith  and  confidence !  iShd  then  reflect 
also  upon  the  people  amongst  whom,  and  by 
whom  he  was  obliged  to  live,  and  who  acted  to- 
wards him  in  such  a  manner! 

His  cures  of  cataract  indeed  continued  very 
successful;  but  the  most  of  his  patients  were 
poor,  and  seldom  was  there  one  that  could  pay 
him  any  thing;  and  if  occasionally  a  wealthy 
person  came,  the  operation  generally  proved  un- 
successful. 

But  was  there  any  thing  in  Stilling's  mode  of 
life  and  conduct  that  possibly  so  degraded  him  ; 
or  was  he  really  no  economist,  or  even  a  spend- 
thrift 1  To  this  I  will  reply  impartially,  and  ac- 
cording to  truth:  Stilling's  whole  deportment 
was  naturally  free  and  open,  but  now  univer- 
sally tinctured  with  melancholy.  There  was 
nothing  in  him  which  could  have  offended  any 
one,  except  his  open-heartedness ;  in  conse- 
quence of  which,  he  suffered  much  to  flow  out 
of  his  heart  which  he  might  have  kept  to  him- 
self; and  this  caused  him  to  be  regarded  by  his 
colleagues,  and  those  of  the  same  profession,  as 
ambitious,  aspiring,  and  desirous  of  taking  the 
precedence  of  them;  though,  in  reality,  his  soul 
was  devoid  of  this  feature.  That  which,  in 
other  respects,  had  caused  him  the  greatest  suf- 
fering, was  a  high  degree  of  thoughtlessness^ 
he  did  not  always  weigh  the  consequences  of 
what  he  did  or  said  ;  in  a  word,  he  had  a  certain 
colouring  of  etourderie  or  inconsiderateness  ;  and 
it  was  this  very  failing  which  paternal  Provi- 
dence intended,  by  such  a  tedious  purification,  to 
banish  from  his  character.  With  regard  to  his 
economy,  no  one  had  reasonably  any  thing  to 
object  to  it :  and  yet  there  was  a  reason  why  he 
was  so  much  cramped  in  his  reputation  and  in 
his  domestic  arrangements.  Nothing  in  the 
world  oppressed  him  more,  than  to  owe  any 
thing  to  any  one,  and  to  have  many  and  burden- 
some debts.  His  diligence  and  activity  were 
unbounded ;  but  he  could  not  urge  any  one  for 
payment ;  his  character  constrained  him,  even 
in  his  own  most  urgent  necessities,  to  remit  the 
poor  man  his  debt,  and  to  cross  out  the  account 
of  the  rich  man  who  was  niggardly  or  mur- 
mured at  his  charges;  too  magnanimous  to 
spend  even  an  unpleasant  word,  or  to  cause  any 


100 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


individual  pain,  for  the  sake  of  money.  In  food 
and  clothing,  he  was  cleanly  and  neat,  but  very 
modest  and  simple;  neither  had  he  any  expen- 
sive hobby-horse,  and  yet  he  often  expended 
something  without  sufficient  reflection,  which 
might  have  been  much  better  applied;  in  short, 
he  was  a  man  of  learning,  and  not  a  tradesman. 
Christina,  on  the  contrary,  was  extremely  spa- 
ring ;  she  turned  every  farthing  over  and  over  be- 
fore she  laid  it  out;  yet  she  did  not  exercise  a 
judicious  oversight  over  the  whole  of  the  house- 
keeping; she  spared  only  with  that  which  she 
had  in  hand. 

It  is  however  true  that  if  Stilling  and  his 
spouse  had  possessed  a  tradesman-like  spirit,  he 
would  have  made  fewer  debts;  but  in  theirsitua- 
tion  it  was  impossible  to  remain  free  from  them. 
This  observation  I  owe  to  truth. 

He  that  is  desirous  of  forming  to  himself  a 
lively  idea  of  Stilling's  state  of  mind  at  that 
time,  must  imagine  to  himself  a  wanderer  on  a 
narrow  foot-path,  close  to  a  perpendicular  range 
of  rocks,  on  his  right  hand  :  further  on,  an  abyss 
of  invisible  depth;  on  his  left,  steep  and  rugged 
rocks,  and  impending  loose  masses  of  stone, 
hanging  over  his  head ;  before  him,  no  hope  of  a 
better  or  surer  way ;  on  the  contrary,  the  path 
becoming  smalter,  and  at  length  ceasing  entire- 
ly;  nothing  but  precipices  are  seen  all  around. 

Stilling  had  only  needed  to  have  become  a 
professor  of  the  new-fashioned  religion,  to  have 
abandoned  his  wife  and  children ;  but  the  tempt- 
ation to  this  neverentered  his  mind  ;  he  adhered 
only  the  more  closely  to  a  paternal  Providence; 
he  believed  it  was  an  easy  thing  for  that  to  find 
an  outlet,  where  all  human  forethought  could 
not  discover  any  ;  and  he  therefore  proceeded,  in 
darkness  and  twilight,  step  by  step,  on  his  nar- 
row path. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1778,  he  again 
made  up  his  accounts,  and  found,  to  his  utter 
dismay,  that  he  had  fallen  during  the  past  year 
still  deeper  into  debt  than  before  ;  add  to  which, 
some  of  his  creditors  began  to  threaten  him,  and 
his  affairs  now  seemed  to  be  at  the  worst.  Be- 
sides this,  there  was  another  circumstance  which 
harassed  his  mind;  he  had  undertaken  to  collect 
the  subscriptions  for  the  works  of  the  Society  of 
Political  Economy,  and  had  received  money; 
he  was  therefore  indebted  to  Mr.  Eisenhart 
twenty-eight  guilders,  which  he  was  unable  to 
pay:  "I  shall  be  disgraced,  even  there,"  said  he 
to  himself.  In  the  greatest  anxiety  of  heart,  he 
ran  up  to  his  chamber,  threw  himself  before 
God,  and  prayed  a  long  time  with  unequalled 
fervour ;  he  then  arose,  sat  down,  and  wrote  a 
letter  to  Eisenhart,  in  which  he  disclosed  to  him 
his  whole  situation,  and  besought  him  to  have 
patience  with  him  a  little  while.  He  soon  after 
received  an  answer.  Eisenhart  wrote  to  him, 
desiring  him  not  to  mention  a  word  more  of  the 
twenty-eight  guilders ;  he  had  thought  it  went 
well  with  him,  and  that  the  practice  of  medicine 
was  a  pleasure  to  him;  but  since  he  now  saw 
that  the  contrary  was  the  caSe,  he  proposed  to 
him,  if  agreeable,  to  accept  a  professorship  of 
Agriculture,  Technology,  Commerce,  and  the 
Veterinary  art,  in  the  lately-established  provin- 
cial academy  at  Rittersburg.  Two  professors 
were  already  there,  one  of  whom  taught  the  aux- 
iliary sciences,  Mathematics,  Natural  History, 
Physic,  and  Chemistry;  and  the  other,  Civil, 
Financial,  and  Political  Economy;  the  stipend 
was  six  hundred  guilders,  and  the  lecture-monev 
might  easily  amount  to  two  or  three  hundred 


guilders  more  ;  living  was  cheap  at  Rittersburg, 
and  he  was  confident  that  he  could  easily  induce 
the  Elector  to  give  Stilling  the  appointment. 

Reader,  stand  still,  and  cast  a  look  into  Stirl- 
ing's whole  being,  on  reading  this  letter!  Sup- 
posing that  the  wanderer  whose  dreadful  alpine 
path  I  have  described  above,  met  with  an  open 
door  to  the  left,  at  the  point  where  his  path  had 
disappeared  before  him,  through  which  he  found 
an  outlet  into  blooming  fields,  and  saw  before 
him  a  sumptuous  habitation — a  home,  which 
was  destined  for  him,  how  would  he  feell  Just 
so  was  Stilling  affected;  he  sat  like  one  stupe- 
fied ;  so  that  Christina  was  terrified,  and  looking 
over  his  shoulder,  read  the  letter  which  had  so 
moved  him;  she  clapped  her  hands  together, 
sank  upon  a  chair,  wept  aloud,  and  praised  God. 

At  length  he  recovered  himself;  the  brilliance 
of  the  light  had  dazzled  him;  he  now  looked 
with  a  fixed  eye  through  the  opened  door  upon  the 
radiant  prospect,  and  reflecting  deeply,  saw  in 
prospect  his  whole  destiny.    From  his  youth 
up,  public  speaking,  elocution,  and  declamation 
had  been  his  greatest  delight,  and  in  these  he  had 
always  enjoyed  much  approbation;  lungs  and 
voice — all  were  formed  for  speaking  in  public. 
But  he  had  never  been  able  to  cherish  the  most 
distant  hope  of  becoming  Professor,  although  it 
was  his  highest  wish ;  for  he  had  neither  success 
nor  celebrity  in  the  medical  profession,  and  both 
were  requisite  for  that  purpose ;  and  he  knew  of 
no  other  department  in,which  he  might  have 
been  placed.    But  what  is  there  that  is  im- 
possible to  Providence1?    It  created  for  him  a 
new  sphere  of  action,  in  which  little  had  been 
accomplished,  and  where  he  found  enough  to  do. 
He  reviewed  his  attainments  in  knowledge,  and 
found,  to  his  extreme  astonishment,  that  he  had 
been  imperceptibly  forming  for  this  vocation 
from  his  cradle.    Brought  up  amongst  farmers, 
he  had  learnt  agriculture,  and  had  himself  re- 
peatedly performed  all  its  attendant  labors. 
"Who  can  teach  it  better  than  IV  thought  he 
to  himself.    He  had  lived  long  in  the  woods, 
amongst  foresters,  charcoal-burners,  wood  cut- 
ters, &c,  and  was  therefore  perfectly  acquainted 
with  the  practical  part  of  these  things.  Sur- 
rounded from  his  youth  up  with  miners  of  every 
description,  with  iron,  copper,  and  silver-smelt- 
ers, with  bar-iron,  steel,  and  spelter-founders  and 
wire-drawers,  he  had  become  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  these  important  manufactures, 
and  had  also  himself  had  the  management  for 
seven  years  together,  at  Mr.  Spainer's,  of  es- 
tates and  foundries ;  whilst  at  the  same  time,  he 
perfectly  understood  commerce  in  all  its  branch- 
es, and  was  practised  in  all.    And  in  order  that 
he  might  not  be  deficient  in  the  fundamental  and 
auxiliary  sciences,  Providence  had  very  wisely 
directed  him  to  the  study  of  medicine,  in  which 
Physic,  Chemistry,  Natural  History,  &c,  are  in- 
dispensable.   In  reality,  he  had  labored  through 
these  sciences,  and  especially  Mathematics, 
with  greater  predilection  than  all  the  rest,  so  that 
even  in  Strasburg  he  had  read  a  lecture  upon 
Chemistry  ;  the  veterinary  art  was  also  easy  to 
him,  as  a  practical  physician.    Finally,  he  had 
made  himself  acquainted,  in  Schönenthal,  with 
all  sorts  of  manufactures  ;  for  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse had  always  predominated  in  him,  to  be- 
come thoroughly  acquainted  with  every  branch 
of  trade,  without  knowing  why.    Besides  all 
this,  he  had  uninterruptedly  exerci-ed  himself 
in  lecturing;  and  it  is  now  the  ti.ne  for  me  to 
mention  a  fact  of  which  I  could  say  nothing  be- 


STILLIN  GS  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


101 


fore  without  appearing  ridiculous,  which  is, 
however,  extremely  important.  Stilling  had 
heen,  from  his  youth  up,  extraordinarily  fond  of 
history,  and  had  studied  it  intently ;  he  had  there- 
fore attained  a  good  acquaintance  with  matters 
of  government.  To  this  add  novels  and  ro- 
mances of  all  sorts,  especially  political,  by  which 
a  propensity  arose  in  his  soul  which  no  one  had 
discovered,  because  he  was  ashamed  of  it;  it 
was  a  desire  to  rule,  an  exceedingly  powerful 
anxiety  to  render  mankind  happy,  that  continu- 
ally actuated  him.  He  had  thought  he  should 
have  been  able  to  do  the  latter  in  the  capacity 
of  a  practical  physician,  but  nothing  satisfied 
him  in  that  department.  The  "  History  of  Mr. 
Von  Morgenthau"  had  flowed  from  this  source. 
Let  the  reader  now  imagine  to  himself  a  man  of 
mean  birth  and  low  rank  without  the  smallest 
hope  of  ever  being  able  to  fill  a  civil  office,  and 
yet  endued  with  this  passionate  desire!  But 
now,  this  irregular  mass  melted  together  into 
the  stream  of  his  future  course  of  life.  "No, 
no!  I  would  -not  be  myself  a  ruler,"  he  ex- 
claimed when  he  was  alone;  "but  it  was  the 
forming  of  rulers,  and  princes'  ministers,  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  people,  and  I  knew  it  not." 
Just  as  a  condemned  criminal,  on  whom  the 
judge  pronounces  pardon  and  raises  from  the 
dust,  sinks  down  and  stammers  out  unutterable 
thanks,  so  sank  Stilling  before  God,  and  faltered 
out  unspeakable  words.  Christina  was  also 
extremely  rejoiced;  #e  longed  to  depart  from 
her  present  situation,  and  go  into  a  land  which 
she  knew  not. 

As  soon  as  the  tumult  had  subsided  in  his 
soul,  and  he  had  become  tranquil,  all  his  debts 
presented  themselves  to  his  mind,  and  scarcely 
could  he  control  his  confusion.  "  How  shall  I 
be  able  to  leave  this  place  without  paying?' 
This  was  a  hard  knot  to  unloose.  However,  he 
took  courage  again ;  for  he  was  too  strongly 
convinced  of  his  destiny,  to  doubt  in  the  least. 
He  wrote,  therefore,  to  Eisenhart,  that  a  profes- 
sor's chair  in  Rittersburg  would  be  very  agreea- 
ble to  him,  and  that  he  felt  himself  competent  to 
the  situation,  but  that  his  creditors  would  not 
suffer  him  to  depart ;  he  therefore  inquired 
whether  a  certain  sum  could  not  be  advanced 
him  ; — he  would  pledge  his  income,  and  pay  off 
yearly  a  couple  of  hundred  guilders,  together 
with  the  interest.  This  request  was  flatly  refu- 
sed; but  Eisenhart  consoled  him  on  the  other 
hand  with  the  hope  that  his  creditors  would  be 
contented,  if  they  only  saw  that  he  had  the  means 
of  being  able  in  time  to  satisfy  them.  Stilling, 
however,  knew  better,  for  his  personal  credit 
was  too  much  weakened ;  eight  hundred  guild- 
ers at  least  must  be  paid,  otherwise  they  would 
not  let  him  go  ; — nevertheless,  he  placed  a  firm 
confidence  in  God,  and  hoped  against  hope. 

He  kept  this  occurrence  by  no  means  con- 
cealed, but  related  it  to  his  friends,  and  they 
again  related  it  to  others ;  it  therefore  became 
the  general  talk  of  the  town,  that  Doctor  Stilling 
was  to  be  made  Professor.  Now  nothing  ap- 
peared more  laughable  to  the  people  of  Schönen- 
thal than  this  : — "  Stilling  a  professor !  How 
comes  he  to  itl — he  does  not  understand  any 
thing!  It  is  mere  rhodomontade ;  it  is  all  j.a 
invention,  solely  in  order  to  make  himself  ap- 
pear great,"  &c.  But  in  the  mean  time  every 
thing  went  on  in  its  regular  course ;  the  aca- 
demical senate  at  Rittersburg  chose  Stilling  as 
regular  and  public  Professor  of  Agriculture, 
Technology,  Commerce,  and  the  Veterinary  art, 


and  proposed  him  to  the  Elector;  the  confirma- 
tion followed,  and  nothing  more  was  wanting 
but  the  formal  vocation.  While  all  this  was 
transacting,  the  summer  passed  away. 

Stilling  now  gradually  withdrew  himself  from 
the  medical  profession.  With  the  exception  of 
a  few  wealthy  town-patients,  who  afforded  him 
his  needful  support,  he  scarcely  did  any  thing  in 
physic,  but  devoted  himself  entirely  to  his  future 
engagement,  which  was  so  agreeable  to  him. 
All  his  knowledge  of  political  economy  lay  in 
his  soul  like  a  confused  chaos;  but,  as  future 
professor,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  bring 
every  thing  into  a  system.  Nothing  was  easier 
to  him  than  this,  for  his  whole  soul  was  system; 
his  plan  of  instruction  in  those  sciences,  there- 
fore, developed  itself  before  his  eyes  without 
trouble,  and  he  contemplated  the  beauteous 
whole  with  the  utmost  inward  delight.  I  refer 
my  readers  to  his  numerous  publications,  in  or- 
der not  to  detain  them  here  with  learned  disser- 
tations. 

In  these  pleasing  employments,  the  summer 
passed  over,  the  harvest  approached,  and  he  ex- 
pected his  appointment  day  after  day.  But  what 
ensued  1  In  the  first  week  of  September,  he  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Eisenhart,  which  entirely 
annihilated  the  whole  affair  !  On  the  Elector's 
proceeding  to  Bavaria,  the  project  was  started 
of  removing  the  newly-established  academy  to 
Manheim,  where  there  were  men  of  every  de- 
scription' able  to  fill  the  professorships.  Eisen- 
hart deplored  it,  both  on  his  own  account  and 
Selling's  ;  however,  he  could  not  alter  it. 

His  condition  was  now  perfectly  indescriba- 
ble. He  and  his  poor  wife  sat  together  in  their 
chamber,  and  shed  floods  of  tears;  all  seemed 
now  to  be  lost ;  for  a  long  time  he  could  neither 
think  nor  recover  himself,  he  was  so  stupefied. 
At  length  he  cast  himself  before  God,  humbled 
himself  under  His  mighty  hand,  and  committed 
himself,  his  wife,  and  his  two  children,  to  the 
paternal  guidance  of  the  Most  Merciful ;  resolv- 
ing, without  the  smallest  murmur,  to  return  once 
more  to  the  practice  of  medicine,  and  to  endure 
every  thing  that  Providence  might  ordain  re- 
specting him.  He  now  began  to  go  out  again, 
to  visit  friends  and  acquaintances,  and  relate  his 
misfortune  to  them;  his  practice  returned,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  it  would  go  better  with  him  than 
before.  He  therefore  surrendered  himself  en- 
tirely to  the  will  of  God,  and  was  tranquil. 

He  who  is  acquainted  with  the  divine  proce- 
dure will  be  aware,  without  my  reminding  him 
of  it,  that  all  this  is  precisely  the  method  of 
Providence.  Stilling  had  hastened  towards  his 
aim  with  eagerness  and  impure  desire  ; — pride, 
vanity,  and  other  passions,  had  intermingled 
themselves  in  his  mind;  in  such  a  state,  he 
would  have  arrived  at  Rittersburg  with  bluster- 
ing ambition,  and  would  certainly  not  have  been 
successful.  It  is  the  maxim  of  Eternal  Love,  to 
render  its  pupils  pliant  and  perfectly  resigned  in 
their  wills,  before  He  advances  further  with 
them.  Stilling,  therefore,  at  that  time,  believed 
firmly  that  he  ought  and  must  remain  a  physi- 
cian; and  his  resignation  went  so  for,  that  he 
even  no  longer  desired  the  vocation,  but  was  en- 
tirely indifferent  to  it.  It  fared  with  him  pre- 
cisely in  the  same  manner  as  on  former  occa- 
sions ; — when  he  was  disgusted  with  his  trade, 
he  hastened  eagerly  away  from  Schönberg  to 
Mr.  Hochberg's;  and  I  have  already  described, 
in  his  "  Wanderings,"  how  miserably  he  was 
situated  there ;  he  afterwards  engaged  himself 


102  HEINRICH 

to  Mr.  Isaac,  where  he  was  satisfied,  and  would 
gladly  have  remained  at  his  trade ;  so  that  Mr. 
Spanier  was  obliged  to  constrain  him  to  leave 
his  situation. 

The  Schönenthal  people,  meanwhile,  again 
sounded  fiercely  the  alarm;  for  now  it  was 
deemed  evident  that  the  whole  affair  was  Still- 
ing's  invention,  and  solely  fabricated  from  van- 
ity ;  but  this  troubled  him  little,  for  habit  had 
inured  him  to  calumy ;  he  no  longer  saw  or 
heard  any  thing  of  the  kind.  Profoundly  re- 
signed to  the  will  of  God,  he  hastened  from  one 
patient  to  another,  from  morning  till  evening; 
and  Christina  made  preparations  for  the  winter, 
as  she  was  wont,  by  preserving  a  variety  of 
fruits,  white-washing,  and  repairing  the  house, 
&e. 

A  week  before  Michaelmas,  his  appointment 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  arrived.  He  receiv- 
ed it  calmly,  and  without  the  smallest  eagerness ; 
yet  he  felt  inwardly  happy ;  he  and  his  consort 
returned  God  thanks,  and  they  began  to  prepare 
for  their  departure,  and  their  long  journey.  The 
academy  was  to  be  continued  at  Rittersburg,  be- 
cause too  many  difficulties  had  occurred  in  the 
way  of  its  removal. 

I  have  described  the  first  cas^  Stilling  attend- 
ed ;  I  will  now  also  detail  the  last,  for  it  is  not 
less  remarkable. 

A  full  league  beyond  Schönenthal,  lived  a 
very  upright,  pious,  and  wealthy  merchant,  of 
the  name  of  Krebs ;  his  spouse,  as  regards  her 
head  and  her  heart,  was  one  of  the  noblest  of 
her  sex ;  and  both  of  them  had  often  employed 
Stilling,  for  they  knew  and  loved  him.  They 
had  a  private  teacher  for  their  children,  a  man 
of  seventy  years  of  age,  who  was  by  birth  a 
Saxon,  and  was  called  Stoi.  This  man  was  a 
most  singular  character;  tall,  thin,  and  of  a 
very  venerable  aspect ;  very  learned,  and  imbu- 
ed with  the  most  exalted  virtues,  he  possessed, 
as  the  result  of  religious  principles,  a  coolness, 
a  resignation,  and  a  submission  to  the  will  of 
God,  almost  unexampled  ;  every  motion  and 
position  of  his  body  was  decorous ;  his  whole 
being  was  naturally  grave,  and  every  thing  he 
said  was  weighed  in  the  balances;  each  word 
was  a  golden  apple  on  a  salver  of  silver;  and 
what  was  particularly  excellent  in  this  worthy 
man,  was  his  modesty  and  carefulness  in  judg- 
ing; he  never  spoke  of  the  faults  of  others,  but 
concealed  them  where  he  could,  and  looked 
merely  at  himself.  Stoi  was  a  pattern  for  a  man 
and  a  Christian. 

This  remarkable  man  was  seized  with  the 
military  fever.  The  course  of  the  disease  was 
natural,  and,  as  usual,  not  dangerous.  At  length 
the  whole  of  the  inflammatory  matter  settled  in 
his  right  arm,  which  became  scarlet  all  over, 
and  burned  and  itched  so  intolerably  that  he 
could  not  endure  it  any  longer.  Stoi,  through 
his  whole  life,  had  troubled  himself  about  no- 
thing so  little  as  his  body;  he  considered  it  as  a 
borrowed  tenement;  he  was  always  temperate, 
and  had  never  been  ill ;  consequently  he  knew 
not  the  necessity  of  carefulness,  and  was  igno- 
rant of  danger ;  he  therefore  sent  for  a  bucket  full 
of  cold  water,  and  plunged  his  arm  into  it,  to  the 
bottom;  this  relieved  him  —  the  burning  and 
itching  subsided,  and  with  it  the  redness  and 
eruption;  he  drew  his  arm  out  again,  and,  be- 
hold, it  was  like  the  other. 

Stoi  was  glad  that  he  had  been  so  easily  cured. 
However,  he  soon  perceived  that  his  arm  had 
lost  its  sense  of  feeling;  he  pinched  the  skin,  but 


STILLING. 

felt  nothing;  he  felt  the  pulse  of  that  arm,  and 
found  it  was  quite  still;  he  felt  it  at  the  neck, 
and  it  beat  regularly ;  in  short,  he  was  in  other 
respects  perfectly  well.  If  he  wished  to  move 
his  arm,  he  found  that  he  was  unable,  for  it  was 
as  if  it  were  dead ;  he  now  began  to  think  all 
was  not  right,  and  therefore  sent  for  a  neighbour- 
ing physician ;  the  latter  was  alarmed,  as  was  rea- 
sonable, applied  blisters  to  the  arm,  and  scourged 
it  with  nettles,  but  all  in  vain ;  it  remained  insen- 
sible. By  degrees,  the  fingers  began  to  rot,  and. 
the  putrefaction  crept  gradually  up  the  arm. 

Troost  and  Stilling  were  now  called  in.  They 
found  the  arm  swollen  up  to  the  elbow,  of  a 
blackish  hue,  and  emitting  an  intolerable  stench. 
As  they  entered  the  door,  Stoi  began,  "Gentle- 
men, I  have  committed  a  piece  of  imprudence 
(here  he  related  the  whole  affair);  do  your  duty; 
I  am  in  the  hand  of  God ;  I  am  seventy  years  of 
age,  and  shall  be  well  satisfied  whichever  way 
the  matter  terminates." 

The  two  physicians  consulted  together ;  they 
already  perceived  that  the  arm  must  be  ampu- 
tated ;  however,  they  thought  they  would  still 
attempt  some  other  means  previously,  by  which 
the  operation  would  be  facilitated.  Mr.  Troost 
therefore  took  his  instruments,  and  made  a  varie- 
ty of  incisions  round  about,  near  where  the  mor- 
tification ceased;  the  patient  felt  nothing  at  all 
of  it;  they  then  made  applications  of  the  decoc- 
tion of  Peruvian  bark,  and  prescribed  this  de- 
coction to  be  taken  frequently  inwardly. 

The  next  day  they  were  again  sent  for,  and 
requested  to  bring  their  instruments  to  amputate 
the  arm.  They  accordingly  set  out  for  that 
purpose.  On  their  arrival,  they  found  the  pa- 
tient lying  on  a  field-bed,  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  ;  around  him,  along  the  walls,  stood  a 
number  of  young  people  of  both  sexes,  who  shed 
silent  tears,  and  prayed  in  secret.  Stoi  lay  very 
tranquil,  and  did  not  manifest  the  smallest  fear. 
"Gentlemen,"  he  began,  "I  cannot  endure  the 
stench ;  take  off  my  arm  above  the  elbow,  near 
the  shoulder,  where  it  is  certainly  still  sound ; 
whether  the  stump  be  afterwards  an  inch  longer 
or  shorter,  is  of  little  consequence."  Stilling  and 
Troost  found  what  he  said  was  correct,  and 
promised  to  have  it  finished  speedily. 

Although  all  others  present  trembled  at  the 
dreadful  preparations,  yet  Stoi  did  not;  he  strip- 
ped the  arm,  rolled  up  the  shirt  above  the  shoul- 
der, and  pointed  out  the  place  where  the  arm 
was  to  be  taken  off.  Stilling  and  Troost  could 
scarcely  forbear  smiling ;  when  the  latter  applied, 
the  screw,  in  order  to  close  the  pulse-vein,  he 
assisted  them  very  quietly  and  resignedly;  he 
even  wished  to  help  them  during  the  operation. 
Stilling,  however,  prevented  this;  and,  on  the 
contrary,  bent  himself  towards  the  old  man's 
face,  turned  it  away  from  the  operation,  and 
spoke  with  him  upon  other  subjects ;  during 
which  time  Troost  made  the  incision  through 
the  flesh  to  the  bone.  Stoi  sighed  only  onc«, 
and  continued  his  speech.  The  bone  was  then 
sawn  off,  and  the  stump  bound  up. 

The  whole  of  the  case  was  remarkable.  Mr. 
Troost  slackened  the  screw  a  little,  in  order  to 
see  whether  the  vein  would  spring  or  not;  but  it 
did  not  do  so,  even  when  the  screw  was  entirely 
removed;  in  short,  the  inflammatory  matter  had 
concentrated  itself  in  a  swelling  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  arm,  which  kept  the  nerves  and 
veins  firmly  pressed  together;  but  this  was  first 
discovered  after  his  death. 

Appearances  were  encouraging;  a  favorable 


STILLIN  G'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


103 


ulceration  succeeded,  and  the  cure  was  consid- 
ered certain,  when  Stilling  was  again  sent  for  in 
haste ;  he  ran  thither,  and  found  poor  Stoi  rat- 
tling in  his  throat,  and  drawing  his  breath  with 
great  difficulty.  "  I  have  committed  another 
imprudence,"  stammered  out  the  sick  man  to 
him.  "  I  rose  up,  and  went  to  the  window  ;  a 
cold  north- wind  blowing  upon  my  arm,  I  began 
to  shiver ;  the  matter  has  lodged  in  my  breast. 
I  am  dying;  and  it  is  well:  however,  do  your 
duty,  Doctor;  in  order  that  the  world  may  not 
afterwards  slander  you."  Stilling  took  off  the 
bandage,  and  found  the  wound  perfectly  dry ; 
he  strewed  it  with  powdered  cantharides,  and 
covered  the  whole  stump  with- a  blister;  he 
then  prescribed  other  appropriate  remedies;  but 
they  were  all  unavailing  —  Stoi  died  under  his 
hands. 

"  A  full  stop  now  to  my  medical  practice," 
said  Stilling  to  himself.  He  accompanied  the 
good  Stoi  to  his  grave,  and  buried  him  with  his 
profession.  However,  he  resolved  to  retain  the 
occupation  of  an  oculist,  merely  because  he  was 
so  successful  in  it;  but  then  he  made  it  a  law 
with  himself,  that  he  would  in  future  receive  no 
recompense,  but  practise  it  solely  for  the  glory 
of  his  Heavenly  Father,  by  serving  his  fellow- 
men. 

The  period  now  approached  when  he  was  to 
leave  Schönenthal  and  remove  to  Rittersburg. 
October  was  already  far  advanced,  the  days 
were  short,  the  weather  and  the  roads  bad ;  and 
finally,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  com- 
mencing his  lectures  with  the  beginning  of 
November.  However,  there  was  previously 
still  a  steep  cliff  to  climb ;  eight  hundred  guilders 
must  be  paid  before  he  could  remove.  Many 
friends  advised  him  to  assign  over  his  goods, 
and  to  give  up  all  to  his  creditors.  But  this  was 
not  according  to  Stilling's  views  of  propriety. 
u  No,  no,"  said  he;  "every  one  shall  be  paid  to 
the  uttermost  farthing.  I  promise  this  in  the 
name  of  God ;  He  has  been  my  guide,  and  cer- 
tainly will  not  let  me  be  confounded.  I  will  not 
make  myself  a  knave,  and  abandon  the  school 
of  my  heavenly  Father."  "  It  is  all  very  well," 
answered  they ;  "  but  what  will  you  do  now  1 
You  are  unable  to  pay;  and  if  you  are  arrested, 
and  your  furniture  seized,  what  will  you  then 
do  V*  "  I  leave  all  that  to  God,"  rejoined  he, 
"  and  do  not  trouble  myself  about  it,  for  it  is 
His  affair." 

He  consequently  began  to  pack  up,  and  for- 
ward to  Frankfort  what  he  intended  to  take  with 
him.  and  appointed  a  day  for  selling  the  rest  by 
auction.  Every  thing  passed  over  quietly,  and 
no  one  stirred ;  he  sent  away  furniture  and  re- 
ceived money  without  any  one  interfering;  he 
even  took  places  in  the  stage  to  Rüsselstein  for 
himself,  his  wife,  and  the  two  children,  for  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday,  consequently  a  week  before- 
hand. Meanwhile,  he  was  privately  informed 
that  a  couple  of  his  creditors  had  concerted  to- 
gether to  have  him  arrested;  for,  as  the  little 
household  furniture  he  possessed  was  altogether 
of  trifling  value,  they  had  not  troubled  them- 
selves about  it,  but  believed  that  if  they  thus 
hindered  him  in  his  course,  people  would  be 
found  to  liberate  him.  Stilling  inwardly  trem- 
bled with  anxiety,  yet  still  he  firmly  trusted  in 
God. 

The  following  Thursday,  his  friend  Troost 
entered  the  door,  with  a  cheerful,  smiling  coun- 
tenance, and  tears  in  his  eyes ;  his  pockets  seem- 
ed loaded.    "  Friend,"  he  began,  "  things  go  I 


again  in  Stilling's  fashion."  So  saying,  he  drew 
out  a  linen  bag,  filled  with  French  dollars,  and 
threw  it  upon  the  table.  Stilling  and  Christina 
looked  at  each  other,  and  began  to  weep. 

"  How  is  that  V  said  he  to  his  friend  Troost. 
"  It  is  as  follows,"  answered  the  latter.  "  I  was 
at  a  certain  merchant's,"  whose  name  he  men- 
tioned; :'I  knew  that  you  owed  him  sixty  dol- 
lars, and  begged  him  to  remit  the  debt.  The 
merchant  smiled,  and  said,  'Not  only  so,  but  I 
will  present  him  with  sixty  in  addition  to  it;  for 
I  know  how  much  he  is  straitened.'  He  paid 
me,  therefore,  the  money,  and  there  it  is ;  you 
have  now  nearly  the  eighth  part  of  what  you 
need;  but  I  will  give  you  a  little  advice:  to- 
morrow you  must  take  leave  of  all  your  ac- 
quaintances, in  order  that  you  may  spend  Satur- 
day quietly,  and  thus  prepare  for  your  journey. 
Be  comforted,  and  see  what  God  will  do  for 
you." 

Stilling  followed  this  advice,  and  on  the  Friday 
morning  began  to  take  leave.  The  first  to  whom 
he  went  was  a  rich  merchant.  As  he  entered 
the  door,  the  latter  came  to  meet  him,  and  said, 
"  Doctor,  I  know  you  are  come  to  take  leave. 
I  have  never  mistaken  your  character ;  you 
were  always  a  man  of  integrity  ;  but  I  could  not 
employ  you  as  a  physician,  for  I  was  satisfied 
with  my  own.  God  has  raised  me  from  the 
dust,  and  made  me  what  I  am;  I  acknowledge 
how  much  I  am  indebted  to  Him;  have  the 
goodness  to  receive  this  acknowledgment  in  His 
name;  do  not  shame  me  by  a  refusal,  nor  sin 
through  pride."  So  saying,  he  embraced  and 
kissed  him,  and  put  into  his  hand  a  little  roll  of 
twenty  ducats,  consequently  a  hundred  guilders. 
Stilling  was  petrified  with  astonishment,  and 
his  noble-minded  benefactor  hastened  away. 
Amazement  seized  him  by  the  hair  of  his  head, 
as  the  angel  did  Habakkuk;  he  was  lifted  up  on 
high  by  the  greatness  of  his  joy,  and  proceeded 
further. 

But,  why  do  I  detain  my  readers  1  Acknowl- 
edgments were  pressed  upon  him  with  the  great- 
est delicacy  and  consideration  ;  and  in  the  even- 
ing, when  he  had  finished  his  round  and  returned 
home,  and  counted  the  money  over,  how  much  had 
he? — exactly  eight  hundred  guilders,  neither  more 
nor  less  ! 

Such  sublime  scenes  are  only  weakened  by 
description,  and  by  the  most  brilliant  expres- 
sions ;  I  am  silent,  and  adore !  God  will  re- 
member you,  ye  secret  Schönenthal  friends !  I 
will  bring  you  forward  on  the  day  of  retribu- 
tion, and  say,  "  Lo,  O  Lord !  these  are  they  that 
rescued  me  from  my  state  of  helplessness;  re- 
ward them  immeasurably,  according  to  thy 
great  promises ;"  and  He  will  do  it.  To  thee, 
thou  chosen  and  unshaken  friend,  Troost,  I  say 
nothing.  When  eventually  we  walk  hand  in 
hand  through  the  plains  of  yonder  world,  we., 
will  talk  the  matter  over! 

1  have  hitherto,  in  several  places,  described 
the  character  of  the  inhabitants  of  Schönenthal 
in  no  very  favourable  manner ;  and  it  is  very 
possible  that  many  of  my  readers  may  have  re- 
ceived a  general  impression  of  dislike  to  that 
place.  I  must  myself  confess,  that  I  cannot  di- 
vest myself  of  this  impression  ;  but  this  has  no 
reference  to  the  noble-minded  few,  who,  even  in 
their  striving  after  wealth,  or,  together  with  their 
vocation,  cherish  those  exalted  feelings  which 
ever  have  real  love  to  God  and  man  for  their 
inseparable  companions.  These  Schönenthal 
citizens  cannot  therefore  take  it  amiss  of  me 


104  HEINRICH 

that  I  write  the  truth ;  for  their  sakes,  the  Lord 
blesses  that  flourishing  place ;  and  it  causes 
them  honour,  both  in  the  sight  of  God  and  men, 
that,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  temptations,  they 
retain  their  courage,  and  do  not  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  carried  away  with  the  stream. 
But  the  pietists  of  that  place  will,  in  an  es- 

Secial  manner,  pronounce  a  woe  upon  me,  for 
aving  so  openly  represented  them  in  their  true 
colours;  this  also  has  only  reference  to  those 
amongst  them  who  have  deserved  it.  Why  do 
they  hang  out  the  sign  of  religion  and  the  fear 
of  God,  and  yet  do  not  what  religion  and  the 
fear  of  God  command  1  In  our  time,  when 
Christianity  is  assaulted  on  all  sides,  and  made 
the  butt  of  blasphemy,  the  sincere  admirer  of 
religion  must  work  and  be  silent,  except  where 
he  must  necessarily  speak.  But  why  do  I  stay 
to  excuse  myself?  The  Lord  will  take  cogni- 
zance of  it,  who  judgeth  righteously. 

It  is  long  since  I  have  mentioned  any  thing 
respecting  Mr.  Friedenberg  and  his  family,  or 
stated  how  this  worthy  man  and  his  household 
acted  on  the  occasion  of  Stilling's  appointment 
to  Rittersburg. 

Friedenberg  was  a  manufacturer  and  mer- 
chant. Both  he,  as  well  as  his  wife  and  children, 
were  extremely  industrious,  thrifty,  and  active  ; 
their  attachment  to  religion  had  preserved  them 
from  all  dissipation  and  all  the  amusements  of 
the  great  world.  He  had  begun  with  nothing, 
and  yet,  with  the  divine  blessing,  had  become  a 
moderately  wealthy,  though  not  a  rich  man  ; 
hence  an  unfavourable  sentiment  towards  Still- 
ing prevailed  in  him  and  his  family.  They 
had  no  idea  of  the  character  of  a  learned  man, 
and,  generally  speaking,  learning  was  little  es- 
teemed by  them ;  that  which  did  not  increase 
their  property  was  very  indifferent  to  them.  As 
men  of  business,  they  were  quite  in  the  right; 
but  it  was  on  this  very  account  they  were  in- 
capable of  forming  a  correct  judgment  of  Still- 
ing, for  the  latter  strove  after  the  attainment  of 
truth  and  knowledge  ;  the  unceasing  considera- 
tion how  every  moment  something  was  to  be 
gained  or  saved,  could  not  possibly  fill  a  mind 
whose  whole  sphere  of  operation  was  occupied 
with  higher  things.  Hence  arose  a  species  of 
coolness,  which  inexpressibly  pained  the  sensi- 
tive heart  of  Stilling.  He  sought  to  portray  the 
matter  in  its  true  form  to  his  father-in-law;  but 
the  result  always  was,  "A  man  must  maintain 
himself  honestly  ;  this  is  his  first  duty;  the  sec- 
ond is  then,  certainly,  that  of  being  useful  to  the 
world."  "  Very  correct,"  thought  Stilling;  "no 
one  in  the  world  can  think  ill  of  the  worthy  man 
for  judging  thus." 

Friedenberg  was  not  merely  indifferent  to  the 
Rittersburg  appointment,  but  even  displeased; 
for  he  regarded  his  son-in-law  as  a  confirmed 
bad  manager,  so  that  he  thought  a  fixed  income 
would  avail  him  just  as  little  as  his  practice  in 
Schönenthal ;  and  since  he  was  become  security 
for  his  debts,  he  was  afraid  he  would  now  have 
to  bear  all  the  burden  himself,  and,  perhaps,  in 
the  end,  be  obliged  to  pay  all.  Stilling's  heart 
suffered  extremely  from  this  circumstance ;  he 
had  nothing  to  say  in  his  defence,  but  was 
obliged  to  lay  his  hand  upon  his  mouth  and  be 
silent;  but  the  most  ardent  sighs  for  succour 
incessantly  arose  from  his  oppressed  heart  to 
his  heavenly  Father.  His  confidence  remained 
unshaken,  and  he  firmly  believed  God  would 
gloriously  deliver  him  and  crown  his  faith. 
However,  he  promised  his  father-in-law  to  pay 


STILLING. 

off  yearly  a  couple  of  hundred  guilders,  and 
thus  continually  lighten  the  burden.  This  was 
agreed  upon,  and  Friedenberg  consented  to  his 
removal. 

On  the  Saturday,  Stilling  went  with  his  Chris- 
tina and  the  two  children  to  Rasenheim,  in  order 
to  take  leave.  The  painful  feelings  which  are 
customary  on  such  occasions  were  now  much 
alleviated  by  the  situation  of  affairs.  Stilling, 
however,  feared  his  consort  might  be  unable  to 
bear  the  assault  upon  her  sensibilities,  but  he 
was  mistaken  ;  she  felt,  much  more  deeply  than 
he  did,  how  much  she  and  her  husband  were 
misapprehended.  She  was  conscious  that  she 
had  economized  to  the  utmost  of  her  power; 
that  her  dress,  for  a  doctor's  lady,  was  extreme- 
ly moderate,  and  much  beneath  the  wardrobe 
of*  her  sisters;  and,  finally,  that,  neither  in  eat- 
ing nor  drinking,  nor  in  furniture,  had  she  done 
more  than  she  could  answer  for.  She  was, 
therefore,  cheerful  and  courageous,  for  she  had 
a  good  conscience.  Hence,  when  the  evening- 
approached,  and  her  whole  family  were  sitting 
in  a  circle,  mourning,  she  sent  her  two  children 
away,  after  their  grand-parents  had  blessed 
them,  and  then  stepping  into  the  circle,  she  stood 
and  said : 

"  We  are  about  to  travel  into  a  foreign  land, 
with  which  we  are  unacquainted ;  we  forsake 
parents,  brothers,  sisters,  and  relations,  and  we 
forsake  them  all  willingly;  for  there  is  nothing 
that  renders  parting  painful  to  us.  The  Lord 
has  sent  us  sufferings  and  afflictions  without 
number,  and  no  one  has  helped,  refreshed,  or 
consoled  us;  the  grace  of  God  alone  has  pre- 
served us,  by  the  aid  of  strangers,  from  total 
ruin.  I  shall  go  with  joy.  Father,  mother, 
brother,  and  sisters,  live  so  that  I  may  meet  you 
all  again  before  the  throne  of  God !" 

So  saying,  she  kissed  one  after  the  other  in 
their  turn,  and  hastened  away,  without  shedding 
a  tear.  Stilling  now  also  took  leave,  but  with 
many  tears,  and  walked  after  her. 

The  following  morning  he  placed  himself, 
with  his  wife  and  children,  in  the  stage,  and 
set  off. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  further  Stilling  removed  from  the  scene 
of  his  fiery  trial,  which  had  lasted  six  years  and 
a  half,  the  more  his  heart  expanded;  his  whole 
soul  was  filled  with  thankfulness  and  a  high 
degree  of  joy.  Nothing  brings  purer  pleasure 
than  the  experience  which  the  sufferings  we 
have  endured  afford  us;  we  come  forth  more 
purified  and  more  and  more  glorified  from  every 
purifying  fire;  and  this  likewise  is  solely  the 
invaluable  characteristic  of  the  religion  of  Je 
sus,  which  no  other  ever  had ;  it  teaches  us  to 
know  sin  and  suffering.  To  this  was  added  the 
more  exhilarating  prospect  of  the  future — a  des- 
tination entirely  accordant  with  his  previous 
guidance  and  his  character;  a  vocation  which 
insured  him  a  certain  maintenance,  and  gave 
hopes  for  the  liquidation  of  his  debts ;  and  final- 
ly, a  people  who  could  not  have  any  prejudices 
against  him.  AW  this  infused  profound  peace 
into  his  soul. 

At  noon  he  met  a  part  of  the  private  society 
of  Schönenthal  at  an  inn,  where  they  had  order- 
ed a  parting  dinner.  Here,  therefore,  he  dined, 
and  enjoyed  himself  in  the  company  of  these 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


105 


excellent  men,  and  then  travelled  to  Rüsselstein. 
Two  of  his  brothers-in-law  accompanied  him 
thus  far,  and  then  returned.  From  Rüsselstein 
he  took  a  conveyance  to  Cologne,  and  another 
from  thence  to  P'rankfort.  At  Coblentz  he  visit- 
ed the  celebrated  Sophia  Von  la  Roche,  to  whom 
he  was  already  known  by  means  of  the  history 
of  his  life.  He  then  proceeded  to  Frankfort, 
where  he  visited  his  old  friends,  but  especially 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Kraft,  who  shewed  him  extraordi- 
nary affection  and  friendship. 

After  a  day's  rest,  he  went,  on  account  of  the 
great  floods,  by  way  of  Mayence,  Worms,  and 
Frankenthal,  to  Manheim,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived with  open  arms.  Here  he  found  many 
friends  and  well-wishers,  in  consequence  of  his 
history  having  appeared  in  print.  Favor,  friend- 
ship, affection,  and  tenderness,  were  every  where 
shown  him ;  and  it  is  indescribable  what  a 
pleasing  effect  this  had  upon  him  and  his  Chris- 
tina, after  having  been  so  long  trodden  under 
foot.  Eisenhart  now  gave  him  several  impor- 
tant admonitions.  Stilling's  history,  notwith- 
standing the  favorable  reception  it  had  met 
with,  had  excited  a  prejudice  of  pietism;  every 
one  regarded  him  as  a  man  who  was,  after  all, 
a  refined  enthusiast,  and  of  whom  it  was  neces- 
sary to  be  upon  their  guard  in  this  respect.  He 
was  therefore  warned  not  to  speak  too  much  of 
religion,  but  to  let  his  light  shine  solely  by  in- 
tegrity and  good  actions  ;  for  in  a  country  where 
the  Catholic  religion  predominated,  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  be  prudent.  Stilling  perceived  the 
truth  of  all  this,  and  therefore  sacredly  promised 
to  follow  his  advice  punctually ;  however,  he 
"was  forced  to  laugh  heartily,  for  at  Schönenthal 
he  was  reputed  an  infidel,  whilst  here  he  was 
accounted  a  pietist;  so  little  truth  is  there  in 
man's  judgment. 

He  now  pursued  his  journey  into  the  woody 
and  mountainous  province  of  Austrasia.  Not- 
withstanding the  rude  season  of  the  year,  and 
the  dead  and  leafless  scenery,  Stilling  gazed 
"with  pleasure  on  the  precipitous  rocks  and 
mountains,  the  aged  forests,  and  the  ruins  of  old 
"baronial  castles  everywhere  hanging  to  the  cliffs 
— every  thing  reminded  him  strongly- of  his  na- 
tive province.  He  felt  at  ease,  and  soon  saw 
at  a  distance  the  wood-crowned  Rittersburg, 
with  all  its  ancient  towers ;  his  bosom  heaved, 
and  his  heart  beat  more  strongly,  the  nearer  he 
approached  the  scene  of  his  future  life.  At 
length,  in  the  twilight,  he  drove  in  at  the  gates. 
As  the  carriage  turned  to  the  left,  and  drove 
through  the  narrow  street,  he  heard  a  man's 
voice  call  out,  on  his  right,  "  Halt !"  The  coach- 
man stopped.  "Is  professor  Stilling  in  the 
coach  V  A  twofold  "  Yes"  responded  from  the 
vehicle.  "  Well,  then,  alight,  my  dear  and 
chosen  friend  and  colleague  ;  here  you  must 
lodge." 

The  kind  and  gentle  tone  of  his  voice  affected 
Stilling  and  his  consort  even  to  tears.  They 
alighted,  and  were  received  in  the  arms  of  pro- 
fessor Siegfried  and  his  lady  ;  professor  Stillen- 
feld, his  other  colleague,  also  soon  appeared, 
whose  retired,  quiet,  and  peaceable  character 
particularly  attracted  Stilling's  attention.  Stil- 
lenfeld was  still  unmarried,  but  Siegfried  had 
already  one  child;  he  and  his  spouse  were  ex- 
cellent people,  full  of  zeal  for  religion  and  all 
that  is  good,  and  at  the  same  time  enthusiasti- 
cally philanthropical.  Siegfried  was,  at  the  same 
time,  a  very  learned  and  deep-thinking  philoso- 
pher, whose  chief  inclination  was  directed  to 
O 


Divinity,  which  he  had  formerly  studied ;  but 
he  now  taught  the  laws  of  nature  and  of  nations, 
and  Civil,  Financial,  and  Political  Economy. 
Stillenfeld,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  very  refined, 
noble-minded,  upright  character,  full  of  system, 
order,  and  mathematical  exactness;  in  Mathe- 
matics, Natural  Philosophy,  Natural  History, 
and  Chemistry,  it  was  difficult  to  find  his  equal. 
Stilling  felt  happy  with  these  men  ;  and  his  wife 
soon  attached  herself  to  professor  Siegfried's 
lady,  who  gave  her  information  in  every  thing, 
and  assisted  her  in  the  regulation  of  her  house- 
hold. 

The  difference  between  Schönenthal  and  Rit- 
tersburg was  certainly  great.  Old,  irregular 
houses;  low  rooms,  with  ceilings  supported  by 
crossed  beams ;  little  windows,  with  round  or 
hexagonal  panes  of  glass ;  doors  which  could  not 
be  shut  close;  stoves  of  dreadful  dimensions,  on 
which  the  marriage  of  Cana  in  Galilee,  with  its 
twelve  stone  vessels  of  water  in  bas-relief,  was 
edifyingly  portrayed;  then  a  prospect  into  no- 
thing but  gloomy  forests  of  fir  —  nowhere  a 
rushing  stream,  but  a  serpentine,  creeping,  fen- 
ny water,  &c.  All  this  certainly  formed  a  sin- 
gular contrast  with  the  scenes  to  which  they 
had  been  so  long  accustomed ;  Christina  also 
had  often  tears  in  her  eyes;  but  by  degrees  we 
become  accustomed  to  every  thing,  arid  thus 
both  habituated  themselves  to  their  new  situa- 
tion, and  were  heartily  satisfied  with  it. 

Stilling  now  wrote  both  to  Rasenheim,  to  his 
father-in-law,  and  to  his  father  at  Leindorf,  as 
also  to  his  uncle  at  Lichthausen,  and  faithfully 
pictured  to  these  friends  his  whole  situation  ;  in 
doing  which,  he  by  no  means  forgot  to  dilate 
upon  the  excellent  prospects  he  had  respecting 
the  future.  Johann  and  Wilhelm  Stilling  were 
filled  with  astonishment  at  their  Heinrich's  new 
elevation  ;  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  said 
one  to  another,  "  What  will  he  at  length  be- 
come 1"  Friedenberg,  on  the  contrary,  was  not 
particularly  pleased;  instead  of  expressions  of 
satisfaction,  his  answer  was  full  of  paternal  ad- 
monitions upon  domestic  economy;  he  had  no 
feeling  for  the  honor  done  to  his  son-in-law  and 
his  daughter,  in  his  being  nominated  professor ; 
in  fact,  fame  and  honor  did  not  affect  him. 

As  the  system  of  Political  Economy  which 
Stilling  had  formed  to  himself  lay  much  on  his 
heart,  he  appropriated  the  first  winter  to  the  de- 
velopment of  it  in  his  manual,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  the  reading  of  lectures  from  what  he  had 
written.  In  the  spring,  this  book  was  printed  at 
Manheim,  under  the  title  of  "An  Essay  on  the 
Principles  of  Statistical  Knowledge."  It  met 
with  much  approbation,  notwithstanding  its 
faults  and  imperfections  ;  and  Stilling  now  be- 
gan to  be  lully  assured  of  his  destiny  —  he  felt 
himself  entirely  in  the  department  that  was  nat- 
ural to  him.  Every  obligation  which  his  office 
laid  upon  him,  was  at  the  same  time  his  greatest 
pleasure.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  more 
happy  situation  than  that  in  which  he  now  found 
himself;  for  even  the  people  amongst  whom  he 
lived,  loved,  honored,  and  valued  him  and  his 
Christina  beyond  measure;  all  calumny  and 
turmoil  was  at  an  end ;  and  if  a  storm  had  not 
continually  threatened  him  from  Schönenthal  on 
account  of  his  debts,  he  would  have  been  per- 
fectly happy. 

The  following  summer,  Stilling  read  lectures 
upon  the  treatment  of  woods  and  forests,  Tech- 
nology, and  Agriculture;  for  he  did  not  satisfy 
himself  merely  with  the  sciences  to  which  he 


106  HEINRICH 

was  appointed,  but  also  glowed  with  desire  to 
expand  his  system  as  far  as  possible  in  his 
sphere  ;  and  as  the  treatises  iq  use  were  not 
adapted  to  his  plan,  he  formed  the  resolution  of 
writing  compendia  upon  all  the  sciences  he  was 
acquainted  with,  and  made  preparations  for 
commencing  the  work. 

Stilling  had  been  hitherto  in  the  furnace  of  his 
divine  Founder,  and  from  the  rough  had  been 
wrought  into  a  serviceable  instrument;  but  the 
file  and  the  polish  were  still  wanting;  nor  were 
these  forgotten;  for  events  were  forming  at  a 
distance,  which  were  to  put  the  last  hand  to  the 
work,  and  which  at  length  were  more  painful  to 
him  than  every  thing  he  had  hitherto  endured. 

The  Society  of  Political  Economy,  of  which 
he  was  now  a  regular  member,  operated  with 
unspeakable  blessing  and  success  lor  the  coun- 
try, and  the  Palatinate  can  never  sufficiently 
thank  it  for  its  labors;  this  is  truth,  and  no  com- 
pliment. It  instituted  the  statistical  academy;  es- 
tablished a  manufactory  which  flourishes  great- 
ly, and  affords  maintenance  for  many  hundred 
people;  and  of  all  this,  Counsellor  Eisenhart 
was  the  first  and  last  main-spring,  the  real 
weight  to  the  clock.  They  had  also  bought  a 
farm  in  the  village  of  Siegeibach,  a  league  and 
a  half  from  Rittersburg,  where  they  intended  to 
make  a  variety  of  new  agricultural  experiments, 
and  thus  to  set  a  good  example  to  the  farmers. 
This  farm  had  been  hitherto  under  the  care  of 
managers ;  but  every  thing  had  failed,  nothing 
would  succeed,  for  every  circumstance  proved 
unfavorable.  Now  when  Stilling  came  to  Rit- 
tersburg, the  management  was  committed  to  him, 
as  professor  of  Agriculture ;  and  he  accepted 
this  secondary  office,  believing  that  he  was  fully 
competent  to  it.  The  steward  was  therefore  dis- 
missed, and  the  whole  business  committed  to 
Stilling;  this  took  place  immediately  after  his 
entrance  upon  his  professorship. 

On  arriving  at  Siegeibach,  and  after  examin- 
ing every  thing,  he  found  a  large  and  beautiful 
cow-stable,  laid  with  flags,  arranged  entirely  in 
the  new  style;  in  this  there  were  twenty  lean 
skeletons  of  Swiss  cows,  which  gave  altogether, 
daily,  three  pails  of  milk;  the  true  image  of 
Pharaoh's  lean  kine.  There  were  likewise  two 
working  horses,  with  two  foals;  and  outside,  in 
separate  sties,  a  tolerable  herd  of  swine ;  and, 
although  it  was  only  November,  yet  all  the  hay 
was  long  ago  consumed,  as  well  as  all  the  straw 
for  strewing.  Hence  there  was  a  want  of  milk 
and  butter  for  housekeeping,  and  fodder  for  so 
many  great  mouths.  This  pressed  strongly 
upon  the  good  professor's  heart;  he  therefore 
applied  directly  to  the  society,  but  there  he  could 
not  obtain  a  hearing.  Every  one  told  him  he 
must  do  as  well  as  he  could,  for  all  were  weary 
of  having  always  to  pay.  Stilling  was  now 
again  deficient  in  needful  prudence;  he  ought 
immediately  to  have  resigned,  and  given  up  the 
management;  however,  he  did  not  do  so  —  he 
was  too  much  attached  to  the  whole  institution, 
and  believed  its  honor  was  so  closely  connected 
with  his  own.  that  it  was  incumbent  upon  him 
to  proceed  with  it,  and  this  was  his  misfortune. 

The  first  thing  he  undertook  was  the  sale  of 
half  of  the  cattle;  for  he  hoped  with  the  sum  he 
should  realise  from  it,  to  be  able  to  buy  so  much 
straw  and  fodder  as  to  provide  in  a  proper  man- 
Tier  for  the  other  half.  He  therefore  made  ar- 
rangements for  a  public  auction,  and  was  aston- 
ished at  the  concourse  of  people  and  the  prices, 
so  that  he  felt  assured  he  should  surmount  the 


STILLING. 

mighty  obstacle.  But  how  was  he  terrified  on 
learning  that  most  of  the  buyers  were  creditors, 
who  had  demands  on  the  estate;  whilst  the  rest, 
to  whom  the  estate  was  not  indebted,  were  poor; 
he  therefore  obtained  little  money,  and  he  found 
that  if  he  wished  to  help  himself,  he  must  put 
his  hand  into  his  purse,  and  where  that  did  not 
suffice,  borrow  money  on  his  own  credit. 

He  had,  it  is  true,  the  well-grounded  hope, 
that  in  the  following  summer  a  large  and  abun- 
dant harvest  would  be  more  than  sufficient  to  re- 
pay every  thing,  and  that  the  produce  of  the 
large  clover-fields  and  grass-lands  would  relieve 
him  from  the  burden  ;  and  so  far  he  was  excu- 
sable; still,  however,  for  a  man  in  his  circum- 
stances it  was  thoughtless  to  undertake  any 
thing  of  the  kind,  particularly  when  he  learned 
the  true  state  of  the  case;  but,  oh,  how  easy  it 
is,  after  struggling  through  grievous  sufferings, 
to  discover  the  little  outlet  by  which  we  might 
have  escaped !  God  be  praised  for  his  guidance ! 

To  these  threatening  clouds,  others  collected 
themselves.  The  ruling  persons  at  Rittersburg 
were  all  Roman  Catholics,  in  the  coarse  sense 
of  the  word ;  the  Franciscans  filled  the  clerical 
office,  and  had  the  care  of  the  souls  of  the  par- 
ishioners ;  it  was  therefore  of  importance  to 
these  divines  that  stupidity  and  superstition 
should  be  always  preserved;  the  chief  magis- 
trate, in  particular,  was  their  faithful  adherent. 
But  the  academy  of  Political  Economy  had  now 
established  itself  in  the  town,  the  teachers  of 
which  were  all  Protestants,  and  the  latter  even 
exercised  a  jurisdiction  ;  all  which  was  natural- 
ly a  thorn  in  their  eyes.  Now  there  resided 
there  a  certain  learned  man,  of  the  name  of 
Spässel,  a  singular  character,  who  had  few 
equals ;  his  dress  was  very  negligent,  and  even 
occasionally  dirty;  his  gait  and  walk  slovenly; 
and  all  his  speeches  savoured  of  low  wit,  so  that 
he  acted  the  jack-pudding  in  every  company.  In 
secret,  he  was  the  spy  of  one  of  the  superior 
clergy,  who  was  high  in  favor  with  the  Elector, 
and  likewise  the  news-monger  and  tale-bearer 
of  the  chief  magistrate ;  openly,  he  was  a  face- 
tious scoffer  at  certain  usages  of  his  own  religion; 
but  woe  to  that  man  who  assisted  him  in  so  do- 
ing! for  he  had  secretly  entered  into  the  Fran- 
ciscan fraternity,  to  which  he  faithfully  adhered. 

It  is  painful  for  me  to  hold  up  this  man  to 
public  view.  However,  as  he  was  an  instru- 
ment in  the  hand  of  Providence,  I  cannot  pass 
him  by.  If  he  be  still  living,  and  be  recognised, 
and  if  he  be  still  what  he  was,  he  is  justly  serv- 
ed, and  it  is  a  duty  to  warn  every  upright  char- 
acter against  him;  but  if  he  be  dead,  or  be  not 
recognised,  my  description  of  him  will  do  him 
no  injury.  As  long  as  an  individual  is  still 
continued  in  this  state  of  probation  and  purifi- 
cation, he  is  capable  of  amendment  and  return; 
if  Spässel,  therefore,  become,  even  according  to 
the  principles  of  his  own  church,  a  worthy,  up- 
right, and  benevolent  character,  all  those  who 
formerly  knew  him  exactly  as  I  here  describe 
him,  will  alter  their  sentiments — will  love  him; 
and  there  will  be  more  joy  in  Rittersburg,  as  well 
as  in  heaven,  at  his  return  to  .virtue,  than  over 
ninety-and-nine  worthy  individuals,  who  have 
not  had  so  severe  a  struggle  with  disposition 
and  character  as  he.  Then  will  I  also  step  for- 
ward, before  the  whole  world,  and  say,  "  Come, 
brother,  forgive,  as  I  have  forgiven  thee ;  thou 
art  better  than  I,  for  thou  hast  overcome  more 
numerous  enemies." 

This  Spässel  had  sought,  from  the  commence- 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


107 


ment,  to  be  made  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Political  Economy,  and  even  to  become  profes- 
sor of  the  Veterinary  art;  but  they  were  afraid 
of  him,  for  he  was  a  very  dangerous  man,  who, 
besides,  did  not  possess  the  decorum  which  is  so 
requisite  for  a  professor;  they  had  consequently 
been  very  careful  to  keep  him  at  a  distance. 
Now  as  Stilling  obtained  the  Veterinary  depart- 
ment along  with  the  rest,  he  was  therefore  in  his 
way.  There  was  also  something  in  addition  to 
this;  the  society  had  a  library,  which  was  open 
once  in  the  week  for  a  lecture,  from  six  till 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Stilling  voluntari- 
ly undertook  this  lecture  gratuitously ;  partly,  in 
order  to  increase  his  knowledge  of  literature, 
and  partly  by  this  means  to  be  the  more  useful 
to  his  hearers;  the  society  had  also  permitted 
all  the  literati  of  the  place  to  make  use  of  their 
books  at  this  lecture. 

Spässel  rarely  took  advantage  of  this  privi- 
lege ;  but  towards  the  spring,  he  began  to  come 
oftener.  The  management  of  the  farm  at  Sie- 
gelbach,  however,  caused  Stilling  to  make  an  al- 
teration in  the  matter;  as  he  was  compelled  to 
go  thither  every  Monday,  and  being  unable  to 
read  the  customary  lecture  on  that  day,  he  trans- 
ferred it  to  the  Tuesday  evening.  This  he 
made  known  to  all  the  students,  and  begged 
them  to  make  it  public.  Spässel,  however, 
came  three  Mondays  following,  and  found  the 
door  closed ;  on  the  third,  he  sat  down  and  wrote 
the  following  note :  1  insert  it  just  as  it  was  :* 

"  it  Is  probablee  intended  bi  Professer  Stilling 
To  make  A  fool  of  me — but  This  is  to  informe 
Him — That  Spässel  duz  not  intend  To  b  maid  a 
fool  of! ! ! — the  zosiete  ote  to  instrukt  there  pee- 
ple  in  there  dooti  and  devores.  Spassel." 

Stilling  sent  this  note  in  a  letter  to  counsellor 
Eisenhart,  the  Director,  and  informed  him  of  the 
circumstances  of  the  case;  the  latter  wrote  im- 
mediately to  Mr.  Spässel,  and  represented  the 
#  matter  in  its  true  light,  in  a  polite  and  honest 
manner.  But  this  was  pouring  oil  into  the  fire ; 
for  the  honest  man  came  to  Stilling,  and  made 
use  of  such  malicious  and  offensive  expressions, 
that  the  latter  broke  out  into  a  glowing  flame, 
and  marched  Mr.  Spässel  as  quickly  as  possible 
out  of  the  door  and  down  the  steps,  and  then 
called  after  him,  "  Never  cross  my  threshold 
again,  until  you  are  become  a  better  man." 

Here  the  matter  ended ;  but  that  Spässel  kept 
all  this  in  remembrance,  in  order  eventually  to 
take  advantage  of  it,  may  be  easily  supposed. 

About  this  time  there  appeared  another  mete- 
or in  the  horizon  of  Rittersburg.  A  certain  ar- 
rogant Englishman,  of  the  name  of  Tom,  had 
travelled  through  many  a  province  as  English 
language-master,  made  a  thousand  plans,  and 
built  castles  in  the  air,  but  all  had  failed.  In 
other  respects,  he  was  a  man  of  uncommon  tal- 
ents, learned,  and,  on  the  whole,  a  genius,  in  the 
real  sense  of  the  term.  The  motive  of  all  his 
actions  was  ungovernable  pride ;  destitute  of  re- 
ligion, rigid  materialism  and  blind  fate  seemed 
to  be  his  guides.  Philanthropy,  that  offspring 
of  Deity,  was  unknown  to  him  ;  he  loved  nothing 
but  himself;  the  name  of  "language-master" 
was  odious  to  him,  although,  in  reality,  he  was 
nothing  more,  and  he  assumed  the  appellation 
of  Professor  of  English  Literature.  Poverty 
was  a  hell  to  him,  and  yet  he  was  extremely 
poor;  for  when  formerly  he  was  a  wealthy  mer- 

*  As  the  note  of  course  must  be  translated  for  the  Eng- 
lish reader,  the  above  is  given  as  the  nearest  possible  speci- 
men of  the  illiterate  original. — Ed. 


chant,  he  had  acted  the  part  of  a  great  man,  and 
afterwards,  as  may  easily  be  supposed,  became 
bankrupt.  This  individual  resided  at  that  time 
in  Manheim;  and  as  the  institution  at  Ritters- 
burg seemed  to  him  to  be  just  the  place  where  he 
could  support  himself  and  acquire  fame,  he  ap- 
plied to  Eisenhart  to  assist  him  in  obtaining  a 
professorship  in  the  Rittersburg  academy.  Ei- 
senhart, who  knew  the  ability  of  the  man,  but 
also  his  dangerous  character,  and  besides  deem- 
ed it  necessary  to  economize  with  the  favor  of 
the  Elector,  always  positively  refused  his  re- 
quest. At  length  Tom  resolved  to  go  thither, 
without  either  salary  or  employment;  he  there- 
fore merely  applied  for  permission  to  reside 
there  and  lecture;  and  this  was  readily  granted 
him.  Eisenhart  therefore  wrote  to  Stilling,  who 
had  the  providing  of  lodgings  and  quarters  for 
the  students  committed  to  him,  to  procure  a 
dwelling  for  professor  Tom,  at  the  same  time 
describing  the  man  to  him,  and  stating  what 
kind  of  a  lodging  it  must  be.  Stilling  accord- 
ingly hired  a  couple  of  handsome  rooms  at  a 
merchant's,  and  awaited  Tom's  arrival. 

At  length,  one  afternoon,  a  female-servant 
came  from  an  inn,  with  the  following  note,  ad- 
dressed to  Stilling : 

"Professor  Tom  is  here." 

"Ha!"  thought  Stilling;  "a  singular  an- 
nouncement!" 

As  he  always  made  it  a  maxim,  in  cases 
which  could  not  prejudice  himself  or  the  good 
cause,  to  "  take  the  lowest  place,"  he  took  up  his 
hat  and  stick,  in  order  to  go  to  the  inn.  At  the 
same  moment,  word  was  sent  from  the  merchant 
that  he  would  not  permit  the  English  language- 
master  to  enter  unless  he  paid  for  the  first  quar- 
ter in  advance.  "  Very  well,"  thought  Stilling, 
and  proceeded  to  the  inn.  There  he  found  a  re- 
spectable-looking, well-made  man,  with  a  broad 
and  lofty  forehead,  large  staring  eyes,  thin  face, 
and  pointed  lips,  from  whose  features  spirit  and 
craftiness  every  where  looked  forth;  near  him 
stood  his  wife,  dressed  in  a  riding-habit  whilst 
grievous  care  gnawed  her  heart,  which  was  ev- 
ident in  her  swimming  eye,  and  the  downward 
inclining  corners  of  her  mouth. 

After  the  exchange  of  compliments,  during 
which  Tom  seemed  to  wish  to  penetrate  deeply 
with  his  feelers  into  Stilling's  soul,  the  latter 
said,  "  Sir,  I  have  now  seen  where  you  have 
alighted;  come  with  me,  in  order  also  to  see 
where  I  live." 

"  I  will,"  said  he,  at  the  same  time  pointing 
his  lips,  and  looking  very  sarcastical.  On  ar- 
riving at  Stilling's  house,  he  said  to  him  further, 
"  Sir,  we  are  pleased  at  having  so  able  a  man 
amongst  us,  and  heartily  wish  it  may  go  well 
with  you." 

Tom  walked  up  and  down,  making  all  kinds 
of  grimaces,  and  replied,  "  I  will  make  the  at- 
tempt." 

Stilling.—1'  But  I  must  tell  you  one  thing;  you 
will  not  take  it  amiss  of  me.    I  have  rented  two 

handsome  rooms  for  you  at  Mr.  R  's;  but 

the  honest  man  demands  a  quarter's  rent  in  ad- 
vance ;  now,  as  you  are  unknown  to  us  all,  the 
man  is  not  so  much  to  blame." 

Tom. — "  So !  (he  walked  hastily  up  and  down,) 
I  will  go  back  again  to  Manheim ;  I  will  not  let 
myself  be  insulted  here,  either  by  a  professor,  or 
any  one  else." 

Stilling. — "  As  you  please !  We  will  quietly 
and  contentedly  suffer  you  to  return." 


108 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


Tom.— "What!— why  then  have  I  been  de- 
coyed hither  1" 

Stilling  now  took  him  by  the  arm,  looked  him 
full  and  seriously  in  the  face,  and  rejoined,  :'Sir, 
you  must  not  seek  to  act  the  proud  Briton  here. 
None  of  us,  nor  any  honest  German,  .troubles 
himself  in  the  least  on  that  account.  At  your 
own  request  you  have  been  permitted  to  come 
hither,  and  it  is  altogether  in  our  power  whether 
we  send  you  out  of  the  gates  or  not.  Now  be 
calm,  and  observe  the  respect  you  owe  to  one 
who  is  your  superior,  or  else  depart,  if  you 
please.  However,  I  advise  you  to  remain  here, 
and  act  the  part  of  a  man  of  integrity,  and  all 
will  go  well.  Remember  that  you  are  an  entire 
stranger  here,  whom  no  one  knows,  and  who 
consequently  has  not  the  smallest  credit;  for  a 
rogue  may  possess  your  name,  as  well  as  an 
honest  man. 

Stilling  was  now  called  out;  the  merchant 
had  taken  a  view  of  Mr.  Tom's  furniture,  and 
sent  word  that  he  would  receive  the  language- 
master  without  the  advance.  This  news  paci- 
fied Mr.  Tom,  and  he  took  possession  of  the 
apartments. 

But  that  I  may  not  waste  both  time  and  room 
in  detailing  every  little  event  and  circumstance, 
1  will  only  observe,  in  short,  that  Spässel  and 
Tom  united  together,  and  formed  a  plan  to  over- 
throw Stilling,  expel  him  from  his  situation,  and 
then  divide  his  office  between  them.  Their 
preparations  were  extremely  cunning,  exten- 
sively concerted,  and  maturely  digested,  as  the 
result  Will  shew. 

The  general  idea  that  Stilling  had  still  some 
inclination  to  enthusiasm  and  pietism,  appeared 
to  the  two  caballers  the  weak  side,  to  which  they 
must  direct  their  artillery  and  make  a  breach. 
They  walked,  therefore,  a  long  time  up  and  down 
the  street  before  Stilling's  house,  in  the  twilight, 
in  order  to  spy  out  what  they  could.  Now  he 
was  frequently  in  the  habit,  after  dinner,  of  play- 
ing hymn-tunes  upon  his  harpsichord  and  sing- 
ing to  them,  in  which  his  Christina  joined;  this 
was  spread  abroad ;  it  was  said  he  had  family- 
worship,  prayer-meetings,  and  the  like ;  and  thus 
the  public  were  gradually  prepared.  This  intel- 
ligence Spässel  communicated  also  to  the  court 
at  Munich,  in  order  that  every  thing  might  be 
complete. 

A  circumstance  was  added  to  this  which  fully 
decided  the  matter.  Stilling  had  found  at  Sie- 
gelbach  a  stock  of  Swiss  cheese,  which  he  took 
home  with  him, in  order  to  sell;  in  consequence 
of  which,  a  number  of  tradespeople,  women,  and 
girls,  came  frequently  to  buy  cheese.  Now  there 
were  some  of  them  who  were  of  a  religious  turn, 
and  occasionally  spoke  on  the  subject  with  Still- 
ing's consort — one  of  them  once  invited  her  to 
her  garden,  in  order  to  afford  a  little  change  to 
herselfand  her  children.  Christina  accepted  it 
without  hesitation,  and  Stilling  imagined  no- 
thing evil.  She  went  therefore  on  the  day  ap- 
pointed ;  and  after  the  lecture-hours,  he  walked 
to  the  garden  also,  to  fetch  his  wife  and  children. 
Here  he  found  four  or  five  females  sitting  round 
his  Christina  in  the  summer-house  ;  some  edify- 
ing works  lav  on  the  table,  between  currant- 
cakes  and  coffee-cups,  and  all  were  engaged  in 
religious  conversation.  Stilling  sat  down  by 
them,  and  began  to  preach  circumspection:  he 
represented  to  them  how  dangerous  meetings  of 
that  kind  were  in  a  place  where  every  action  and 
movement  of  the  Protestants  were  so  minutely 
observed ;  he  then  clearly  and  fully  proved  to 


them  that  religion  does  not  consist  in  such  con- 
versation, but  in  a  devout  life,  &c. 

But  who  could  have  imagined  that  Spässel, 
at  that  very  time,  was  standing  behind  the  hedge, 
and  overheard  every  thing !  Stilling,  at  least, 
never  dreamt  of  such  a  thing.  How  was  he  as- 
tonished, therefore,  on  receiving  letters  a  week 
after,  containing  the  most  serious,  and  I  may 
well  say  the  severest  reproaches  from  his  friends 
at  Manheim  and  Zweibrücken  1  he  really  knew 
not  what  to  think  of  it;  and  if  the  holding  a 
garden-conventicle  had  not  been  mentioned,  he 
would  never  have  dreamt  how  this  venomous 
calumny  had  originated.  He  therefore  answer- 
ed the  above  letters  in  a  manly  manner,  and  ac- 
cording to  truth  ;  and  his  friends  believed  him  ; 
but  on  the  whole,  there  always  remained  a  sen- 
sation behind  which  was  prejudicial  to  him,  at 
least  amongst  the  Catholics. 

In  Rittersburg  itself,  the  thing  created  disturb- 
ance. The  chief  magistrate  threatened  impris- 
onment, and  reasoned  very  excellently  ;  but  the 
Protestants  murmured  and  complained  that  they 
were  not  suffered  even  to  hold  family-worship. 
Stilling  lost  nothing  in  their  estimation  ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  valued  him  so  much  the  more. 
The  two  Protestant  clergymen,  two  venerable 

and  excellent  men,  Mr.  W  and  Mr.  S  1 

also  took  up  the  affair ;  they  visited  the  females 
in  question,  admonished  them  to  be  prudent, 
consoled  them,  and  promised  them  protection ; 
for  they  knew  they  were  good  and  worthy  peo- 
ple, who  cherished  no  principles  which"  were 
contrary  to  religion.  Mr.  W  even  preach- 
ed, the  following  Sunday,  upon  prudence  and 
duty  with  respect  to  family-worship;  during 
which,  he  finally  turned  towards  Stilling,  and 
addressed  him  openly,  by  breaking  out  into  the 
following  words :  "  But  thou,  suffering  wanderer 
to  the  lofty  aim  of  the  Christian  and  the  truly 
wise,  be  of  good  cheer ;  endure  patiently,  and 
walk  with  circumspection  between  the  snares 
that  adversaries  lay  for  thee!  Thou  wilt  over- 
come, and  God  will  crown  thee  with  blessings; 
God  will  make  shame  the  companion  of  thy  foes, 
but  upon  thee  shall  the  crown  of  the  conqueror 
flourish.  Let  us  accompany  each  other,  hand 
in  hand,  through  the  burning  sandy  desert,  and 
one  shall  console  the  other  when  his  heart  sighs 
for  help,"  &c.  The  whole  congregation  fixed 
their  eyes  on  Stilling,  and  blessed  him. 

Through  the  efforts  of  these  excellent  men,  the 
whole  parish  was  again  tranquillized  ;  and  as  a 
statement  of  the  affair  was  transmitted  to  the 
Palatine  ecclesiastical  board,  the  chief-magis- 
trate received  an  injunction  to  talk  no  more  of 
imprisonment,  until  really  illegal  conventicles 
had  been  held,  and  excesses  committed  under 
the  name  of  religion.  But  in  the  mean  time, 
Tom  and  Spässel  secretly  continued  their  mach- 
inations at  the  court  of  Munich,  and  really  car- 
ried matters  so  far  that  Stilling  was  on  the  point 
of  being  »ashiered.  He  did  not  hear  of  this  dan- 
gerous storm  until  it  was  happily  over;  for  the 
divine  interference  of  a  superintending  Provi- 
dence was  also  visible  in  this  affair.  At  the  very 
moment  when  an  ecclesiastic  of  high  rank  seri- 
ously urged  the  Elector  to  remove  him,  and  ren- 
dered Stilling  suspected  by  him,  and  when  the 
thing  was  all  but  decided,  another  ecclesiastic 
equally  respectable,  but  a  warm  friend  of  Still- 
ing, and  who  knew  the  real  state  of  affairs  at 
Rittersburg,  entered  the  cabinet  of  the  Elector. 
The  latter,  on  hearing  the  subject  of  the  conver- 
sation, took  Stilling's  part  and  defended  it  so 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


109 


strikingly  and  convincingly,  that  the  Elector  at 
once  ordered  the  intolerant  prelate  to  let  the  mat- 
ter rest,  and  did  not  withdraw  his  favor  from 
Stilling.  Had  not  this  worthy  clergyman  come 
thither  accidentally,  Stilling's"  misfortune  would 
have  been  boundless.  He  first  heard  of  the 
wnole  affair  half  a  yea*  afterwards,  just  as  I 
have  related  it. 

During  this  period,  he  lived  quietly,  fulfilled 
his  duties,  and  acted  as  prudently  as  possible. 

Spässel  and  Tom,  meanwhile,  concocted  a  va- 
riety of  extensive  plans  for  a  general  literary 
club,  a  topographical  society,  &c.  But  they  be- 
came themselves  at  variance  on  these  important 
affairs,  and  began  to  hate  each  other  bitterly. 
Tom's  creditors  now  made  a  stir;  and  as  Still- 
ing was  at  the  same  time  Dean  of  the  academy, 
and  therefore  his  regular  superior,  he  crept  to  the 
cross,  came  to  him,  wept,  and  confessed  every 
thing  in  which  he  had  cooperated  with  Spässel 
to  his  detriment;  he  even  shewed  him  the  letters 
and  statements  which  had  been  sent  from  thence 
to  Munich.  Stilling  was  perfectly  amazed  at  all 
the  infernal  wickedness  and  extremely  artful  de- 
vices of  these  men;  but  as  all  was  now  over, 
and  as  he  learned  just  at  that  time  how  he  had 
been  rescued  at  Munich,  he  forgave  Spässel  and 
Tom  everything;  and  as  the  latter  was  in  pain- 
ful and  needy  circumstances,  he  consoled  and 
supported  him,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  without 
infringing  upon  strict  justice;  and  when  at 
length  Tom  could  no  longer  remain  at  Ritters- 
burg, and  was  desirous  of  removing  to  a  certain 
German  university,  in  order  to  try  his  fortune 
there,  Stilling  provided  him  with  money  for  the 
journey,  and  gave  him  his  hearty  blessing. 

Tom  there  tried  all  his  tricks  once  more,  in 
order  to  elevate  himself;  but  he  failed.  And 
what  did  he  attempt  next?  He  laid  aside  his 
pride,  was  converted,  put  on  a  very  modest 
dress,  and  became  a  pietist !  God  grant  that  his 
conversion  may  be  real,  and  not  a  mask  for  wick- 
edness and  pride.  However,  the  way  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other  is  by  no  means  distant  or 
difficult,  but  very  easy  and  beaten.  May  the 
Lord  bless  him,  and  give  him  the  opportunity 
of  effecting  much  good,  that  so  his  former  cata- 
logue of  sins  may  be  blotted  out! 

Meanwhile,  Stilling  was  highly  successful  in 
his  situation  as  professor;  he  lived  entirely  in 
his  element.  But  as  I  am  unwilling  to  detain 
my  readers  with  a  variety  of  circumstances,  even 
though  of  an  interesting  nature,  which  have  no 
direct  reference  to  his  fate  or  his  guidance,  I 
will  merely  proceed  with  the  principal  course  of 
his  history. 

The  m'anagement  of  the  Siegeibach  estate 
went  wrong;  nothing  succeeded ;  there  was  ev- 
erywhere curse  instead  of  blessing;  unfaithful 
servants,  thievish  neighbors,  secret  perfidy  of 
the  inferior  officers-;  all  these  stood  in  Stilling's 
way,  so  that  at  length,  unless  he  were  willing  to 
be  ruined  himself,  along  with  the  estate,  he  was 
obliged  to  give  up  the  entire  management,  and 
render  in  his  accounts.  Though  he  was  deliv- 
ered by  this  means  from  this  heavy  burden,  yet 
he  was  plunged  still  deeper  into  debt;  for  he 
had  attempted  and  expended  much,  which  he 
partly  could  not  charge,  and  partly  would  not, 
in  order  not  to  be  suspected  of  self-interest;  and 
thus  he  came  off  from  the  affair  with  honor,  but 
at  the  same  time  with  an  addition  of  debt. 

Misfortunes  of  every  kind  now  began  to  gath- 
er over  his  head.  Debts  had  been  formed  at 
Kittersburg,  as  well  as  at  Sch©nenthal;  the  in- 


terest was  scarcely  paid,  much  less  any  liquida- 
tion of  the  principal;  besides  this,  all  kinds  of 
reports  were  spread  abroad,  that  Stilling  kept  a 
coach  and  horses,  lived  at  an  amazing  expense, 
and  never  thought  of  his  debts.  He  had  six  hun- 
dred guilders  salary,  and  received  from  two  to 
three  hundred  guilders  lecture-money;  at  the 
same  time,  the  prices  of  every  thing  in  Ritters- 
burg rose  almost  double,  so  that  with  all  econo- 
my scarcely  so  much  remained  over  his  neoes- 
sary  expenditure  as  covered  the  interest;  with 
what,  therefore,  were  the  debts  to  be  paid  1  Al- 
most every  post-day,  the  most  tormenting  let- 
ters arrived  from  his  father-in-law,  or  from  some 
creditor  in  Schönenthal.  Mr.  Friedenberg  him- 
self was  in  a  very  unpleasant  situation;  he  was 
security,  and  was  threatened  with  an  action  at 
law  by  the  man  who  had  formerly  so  kindly  as- 
sisted Stilling  from  love  to  God  and  man.  Still- 
ing therefore  had  every  moment  to  expect  that 
his  benefactor,  his  father-in-law,  would,  on  his 
account,  be  obliged  to  stop  payment.  This 
thought  was  agony  to  him;  and  then,  under  all 
these  dreadful  circumstances,  to  possess  not  the 
smallest  intimation  of  help,  nor  the  remotest  pre- 
sentiment of  it ! 

Dreadful !  dreadful  was  this  situation !  and  to 
whom  could  he  unburden  himself  t  To  no  one 
but  God;  and  this  he  did  incessantly ;  he  strove, 
without  ceasing,  with  unbelief  and  mistrust,  yet 
never  cast  his  confidence  away.  All  his  letters 
to  his  father-in-law  were  full  of  submission  to 
Divine  Providence,  and  consoling;  but  they  no 
longer  produced  any  effect.  Counsellor  Eisen- 
hart himself,  who  knew  something  of  his  situa- 
tion, made  fruitless  attempts  to  assist  him.  Still- 
ing wrote  "  Florentine  Von  Fahlendorn,"  and 
"Theodore  Von  der  Linden,"  and  sought,  with 
what  he  received  for  them,  to  stem  the  torrent; 
but  it  was  like  a  drop  in  a  bucket.  He  wrote 
to  several  great  and  eminent  friends,  and  stated 
to  them  his  circumstances;  but  some  were  un- 
able to  help  him,  others  took  a  dislike  to  him, 
others  again  exhorted  him  to  endure  to  the  end; 
and  a  couple  assisted  him  with  a  drop  of  refresh- 
ment to  his  parched  tongue. 

Every  thing  therefore  was  in  vain,  and  it  con- 
tinued to  thunder  and  lighten  incessantly  from 
Schönenthal. 

During  this  dreadful  period,  the  Almighty 
prepared  for  judgment  upon  Stilling,  in  order,  at 
length,  to  decide  his  fate. 

On  the  17th  of  August,  1781,  on  a  very  sul- 
try and  thundery  day,  Christina  had  lifted  a 
heavy  basket  upon  the  head  of  the  servant-girl, 
and  in  doing  so  felt  something  crack  in  her 
breast,  which  was  soon  succeeded  by  acute  pain, 
with  shivering  and  fever.  On  Stilling's  return 
from  the  college,  as  he  entered  her  room,  she 
came  to  meet  him,  deadly  pale,  with  the  air  of 
a  culprit,  and  said,  "  Be  not  angry,  my  dear  hus- 
band ; — by  lifting  a  basket,  I  have  done  myself 
an  injury  in  the  breast ;  God  be  gracious  to  thee 
and  me  !    I  forebode  my  death." 

Stilling  stood  stupefied,  and  like  one  thunder- 
struck; weak  and  worn-out  with  protracted  sor- 
row, he  imagined  he  felt  the  mortal  blow;  his 
head  inclined  upon  his  shoulders,  and  projecting 
forwards,  his  hands  clenched,  his  eyes  fixed, 
with  a  weeping  expression  of  countenance, 
though  not  a  tear  flowed,  he  stood  mute;  for  he 
now  also  anticipated  Christina's  decease  with 
certainty.  At  length  he  recovered  himself,  en- 
deavored to  comfort  her,  and  brought  her  to  ^ 
bod.    In  the  twilight  of  the  evening,  the  disease 


110  HEINRICH 

manifested  itself  in  all  its  virulence.  Christina 
laid  herself  down,  like  a  lamb  for  the  slaughter, 
and  said,  "  Lord,  do  with  me  as  seemeth  thee 
good.  I  am  thy  child;  if  it  be  thy  will  that  I 
shall  never  see  my  parents  and  sisters  again  in 
this  world,  I  commit  them  into  thy  hands;  only 
guide  them  in  such  a  manner  as  that  I  may 
eventually  see  them  again,  before  thy  throne !" 

Christina's  first  attack  was,  therefore,  properly 
speaking,  a  pectoral  fever,  accompanied  by  hys- 
terical paroxysms,  which  manifested  themselves 
in  a  violent  cough;  several  physicians  were 
called  in,  and  various  remedies  were  employed 
in  order  to  save  her.  After  the  lapse  of  a  fort- 
night, there  was  some  amendment,  and  it  seem- 
ed as  if  the  danger  were  over.  Stilling  there- 
fore composed  thanksgiving-hymns,  and  wrote 
the  pleasing  account  of  her  recovery  to  his 
friends:  however,  he  was  greatly  deceived;  she 
did  not  even  leave  her  bed ;  on  the  contrary,  her 
illness  settled  into  a  regular  pulmonary  con- 
sumption. The  waters  now  entered  into  Still- 
ing's  soul;  the  thought  of  losing  so  dear  a  con- 
sort was  intolerable  to  him,  for  she  was  the  best 
of  wives;  polite,  extremely  obliging,  whilst  the 
tone  of  her  conversation  and  her  modesty  capti- 
vated every  one.  Her  cleanliness  was  remark- 
able; all  were  happy  around  her;  neatness  and 
order  predominated  in  her  very  simple  dress; 
and  all  that  she  did  was  performed  with  extreme 
facility  and  celerity.  Amongst  intimate  friends 
she  was  mirthful,  and  witty  with  due  decorum, 
whilst  at  the  same  time  she  was  eminently  de- 
vout, and  devoid  of  hypocrisy.  She  avoided  the 
outward  mask  of  godliness,  for  experience  had 
warned  her  against  pietism.  Stilling  knew  all 
this;  he  deeply  felt  her  value,  and  hence  he 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  losing  her.  She 
herself  now  again  desired  to  live,  and  consoled 
herself  with  the  hope  of  recovery.  However, 
the  dreadful  paroxysms  returned  occasionally; 
she  coughed  so  violently  that  pieces  of  her 
lungs,  as  large  as  nuts,  flew  about  the  room; 
and  she  suffered,  at  the  same  time,  the  most 
dreadful  pain.  In  all  this  affliction  she  never 
murmured,  nor  was  ever  impatient,  but  only  ex- 
flaimed  incessantly,  with  a  loud  voice,  "Lord, 
spare  me,  according  to  thy  great  mercy  I"  And 
■when  her  husband  and  nurse  were  perspiring 
with  anxiety,  compassion,  and  fatigue,  she  look- 
ed at  them  both  with  an  inexpressibly  supplica- 
ting countenance,  and  said,  "My  angel  and  my 

all !    My  dear  Mrs.  M  ,  have  patience  with 

me,  and  forgive  me  the  trouble  1  cause  you." 
Acquaintances  often  stood  at  a  distance  at  the 
door,  and  wept  aloud,  as  did  also  poor  people, 
whom  she  had  relieved,  for  she  was  very  benefi- 
cent. 

Stilling  struggled  in  prayer  for  days  and  nights 
together;  a  corner  of  his  study  was  rendered 
smooth  by  kneeling,  and  wet  with  tears;  but 
heaven  was  shut  against  him  ;  every  ardent  sigh 
rebounded  back  again  ;  he  felt  as  if  the  paternal 
heart  of  God  were  closed.  Christina  being  un- 
able to  bear  the  sound  of  footsteps,  he  went  con- 
stantly in  stockings,  and  ran  in  the  distress  of 
his  heart  from  one  corner  of  the  room  to  an- 
other, until  the  feet  were  worn  through,  without 
his  being  aware  of  it.  During  all  this  time, 
threatening  and  insulting  letters  continued  to  ar- 
rive from  Schönenthal.  Mr.  Friedenberg's  heart 
was  broken  by  the  expectation  of  his  daughter's 
approaching  death  ;  but  still  his  reproaches  did 
£  not  cease.  He  was  now  convinced  that  Stilling 
■was  the  cause  of  all  his  misfortunes,  and  excuse 


STILLING. 

I  was  of  no  avail.  The  situation  in  which  the 
poor  susceptible  man  found  himself,  exceeds  all 
description;  but  the  more  his  distress  increased, 
the  more  ardently  and  earnestly  did  he  cleave  to 
the  compassionating  love  of  God. 

After  some  weeks,  in  the  beginning  of  Octo- 
ber, Stilling  was  standing  one  evening  at  the 
staircase-window;  it  was  already  night,  and  he 
prayed  to  God  in  secret,  as  he  was  wont ;  all  at 
once  he  felt  a  profound  tranquillity,  an  unspeak- 
able peace  of  soul;  and  consequent  upon  this, 
a  deep  submission  to  the  will  of  God;  he  still 
felt  all  his  sufferings,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
strength  enough  to  bear  them.  He  went  into  the 
sick-room,  and  approached  the  bed;  but  Chris- 
tina beckoned  to  him  to  remain  at  a  distance; 
and  he  then  perceived  that  she  was  engaged*  in 
earnest  silent  prayer.  At  length  she  called  himr 
motioned  him  to  sit  down,  and  turned  herself 
with  difficulty,  in  order  to  lay  herself  on  the. 
side  next  him ;  she  then  regarded  him  with  an 
inexpressible  look,  and  said,  "  I  am  dying,  dear- 
est angel;  take  heart, — I  die  gladly;  the  ten 
years  we  have  passed  in  the  marriage-state  have 
yielded  nothing  but  suffering;  it  does  not  please 
God  that  I  should  see  thee  delivered  out  of  thy 
distress,  but  He  will  deliver  thee  ;  be  comforted 
and  calm—God  will  not  forsake  thee.  I  do  not 
commend  my  two  children  to  thee, — thou  art 
their  father;  and  God  will  provide  for  them."' 
She  then  gave  several  directions,  turned  herself 
about,  and  was  quiet.  From  that  time,  Stilling 
often  spoke  with  her  concerning  death,  and  of 
her  expectations  after  death  ;  and  did  all  he  pos- 
sibly could  to  prepare  her  for  her  end.  Hours 
of  anxiety  still  frequently  occurred;  and  then 
she  wished  for  an  easy  death,  and  that  it  should 
happen  in  the  day-time,  for  she  dreaded  the 
night.  His  colleague,  Siegfried,  often  visited 
her  (for  his  consort,  on  account  of  sickness,, 
pregnancy,  and  sympathy,  could  seldom  come, 
and  at  length  not  at  all),  and  assisted  him  in  the 
struggle,  and  in  affording  to  her  consolation. 

At  length  she  approached  her  dissolution.  On 
the  1 7th  of  October,  in  the  evening,  he  perceiv- 
ed the  forerunners  of  death;  towards  eleven 
o'clock  he  lay  down,  completely  weary,  in  an 
ante-room,  and  reposed  in  a  kind  of  stupor,  till 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  he  again 
arose,  and  found  his  dear  sufferer  very  composed 
and  cheerful.  "I  have  now  overcome !"  she 
exclaimed,  as  he  entered;  "I  now  see  the  joys 
of  the  world  to  come  vividly  before  me;  nothing 
cleaves  to  me  any  more — nothing  whatever.'* 
She  then  repeated  the  following  verses  : 

"  '  Amongst  the  lilies  thou  shalt  feed, 

With  joy  supremely  blest : 
Thither,  O  soul,  thy  pinions  speed, 

Like  eagles  to  their  nest. 
Behold  for  thee  the  Saviour  waits, 
To  open  wide  heaven's  pearly  gates.' 
0  let  me  run,  and  mount,  and  fly, 

To  join  the  heavenly  host, 
And  the  seraphic  choirs  on  high, 

In  adoration  lost — 
With  blissful  songs  surround  the  throne 
Of  Jesus,  and  the  great  Three-One  ! 
Dear  Brother  of  my  soul !  unmoor 

My  vessel  from  the  strand, 
Give  me  to  reach  the  peaceful  shore-, 

The  safe,  the  heav'nly  land — 
Th^re,  where  thy  sheep  securely  feed,. 
Afar  from  sorrow,  want,  and  need. 
There's  nothing  to  my  heart  shall  cleave, 

Of  all  the  world  can  give  ; 
Why  should  1  longer  mourn  and  grieve, 

Or  wish  on  earth  to  live  ? 
I'd  burst  these  fleshly  prison-walls, 
And  hasten  where  my  Saviour  calls. 


S  T 1 L  L I  J\  G'S 


DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


Ill 


Beloved  Redeemer  !  grant  me  faith— 

A  faith  that  conquers  all — 
That  triumphs  over  sin  and  death, 

And  flies  to  reach  the  goal. 
For  Thee,  my  soul,  like  some  lone  dove, 
Mourns,  till  1  climb  the  realms  above. 
How  soon  canst  thou  my  grief  dispel, 

My  mouth  with  laughter  fill ; 
And  through  the  shades  of  death  and  hell. 

Lead  safe  to  Zion's  hill ! 
Then  shall  life's  painful  passage  seem 
But  like  some  empty,  transient  dream. 
The  curse  of  sin  thou  hast  for  me 

In  all  its  anguish  borne  ; 
Dismay  and  fear  must  therefore  flee, 

Like  night  before  the  morn. 
The  sting  of  death  no  more  gives  pain, 
And  all  my  bones  shall  rise  again. 
Thou  Prince  of  life,  with  purest  flame 

My  soul  shall  sing  thy  praise, 
And  magnify  thy  holy  name 

Here,  and  to  endless  days  ! 
Eternal  life  to  me  is  given- 
Take  me,  O  Lord  !  to  thee  in  heaven." 

Stilling's  whole  soul  melted  into  tears;  he  sat 
down  by  the  bedside,  and  waited  the  departure 
of  the  friend  of  his  soul ;  she  often  pressed  his 
hand,  with  her  customary  favorite  expression, 
"My  angel  and  my  all!"  but  she  said  nothing 
more.  She  did  not  desire  to  see  her  children, 
but  only  commended  them  to  God.  But  she 
frequently  repeated  the  words, 

"  And  through  the  shades  of  death  and  hell 
Lead  safe  to  Zion's  hill," 

and  rejoiced  in  the  consolation  they  contained. 

Towards  ten  o'clock,  she  said,  "Dear  hus- 
band, I  am  very  sleepy,  and  feel  very  comforta- 
ble; should  I  wake  no  more,  and  dream  myself 
into  eternity,  farewell !"  She  then  looked  at 
him  once  more,  with  her  large  black  eyes,  most 
expressively,  pressed  his  hand,  and  fell  asleep. 
In  about  an  hour,  she  began  to  be  convulsed, 
sighed  deeply,  and  shuddered;  her  breath  now 
ceased,  and  the  features  of  death  covered  her 
countenance  ;  her  mouth  still,  however,  inclined 
itself  to  a  smile.    Christina  was  no  more ! 

A  tender  husband  must  have  witnessed  a  sim- 
ilar scene,  or  he  can  form  to  himself  no  idea  of 
this.  At  the  same  moment  Siegfried  entered, 
looked  towards  the  bed,  fell  upon  his  friend's 
neck,  and  both  shed  gentle  tears. 

"Thou  dear  angel!"  exclaimed  Siegfried, 
whilst  bending  over  her,  "  thou  hast  now  en- 
dured to  the  end !"  But  Stilling  kissed  her  pal- 
lid lips  once  more,  and  said,  "  Thou  unparallel- 
ed sufferer,  thanks  be  to  thee  for  all  thy  love  and 
fidelity;  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord  !" 

When  Siegfried  was  gone,  the  two  children 
being  brought  into  the  room,  their  father  led 
them  to  the  corpse,  and  they  cried  aloud ;  he 
then  sat  down,  took  one  on  each  knee,  pressed 
them  to  his  bosom,  and  all  three  wept  together. 
At  length  he  recollected  himself,  and  made  the 
arrangements  which  the  circumstances  required. 

On  the  21st  of  October,  in  the  morning  twi- 
light, Stilling's  Rittersburg  friends  carried  his 
deceased  consort  to  the  burial-ground,  and  in- 
terred her  with  all  quietness.  His  friends,  the 
two  Protestant  preachers,  who  sat  with  him  du- 
ring the  time,  alleviated  this  last  separation,  and 
supported  him  by  consolatory  conversation. 

With  Christina's  death  ended  a  great  and  im- 
portant period  in  Stilling's  history;  and  one 
equally  important  gradually  commenced,  which 
gloriously  and  tranquilly  developed  the  object 
of  the  painful  trials  through  which  he  had  hith- 
erto ieen  led. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

After  the  death  of  Christina,  Stilting  sought 
to  arrange  his  solitary  mode  of  life  in  a  proper 
manner.  He  took  a  journey  to  Zweibrücken, 
where  he  had  very  good  and  faithful  friends ; 
and  with  them  he  conferred  respecting  where  he 
could  best  place  his  children,  in  order  to  have 
them  educated  in  a  proper  manner.  It  appeared 
that  there  was  in  Zweibrücken,  as  it  seemed,  a 
very  good  opportunity  for  that  purpose;  he 
therefore  settled  the  matter,  travelled  back  again, 
and  fetched  them.  His  daughter  was  now  nine-, 
and  his  son  seven  years  old. 

But  after  having  disposed  of  his  children,  and 
returned  to  his  solitary  and  empty  dwelling,  all 
his  sufferings  returned  upon  him ;  with  an  inex- 
pressibly melancholy  feeling  he  covered  his  face, 
weeping,  and  sobbing,  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
comfort  himself.  He  had  given  up  his  house- 
keeping, sent  away  the  maid,  and  the  people 
with  whom  he  lived  brought  his  dinner  into  his 
room ;  he  wa-s  therefore  like  a  complete  stranger, 
and  quite  alone.  He  almost  repented  having 
sent  away  his  children  and  the  servant,  but  he 
could  not  possibly  do  otherwise;  his  children 
must  necessarily  receive  an  education ;  besides 
which,  his  vocation  took  up  too  much  of  his 
time  for  attention  to  his  domestic  affairs,  and  he 
could  not  entrust  a  servant  with  the  housekeep- 
ing; the  arrangement  he  had  already  made  was 
certainly  the  best,  but  to  him  intolerable.  He 
had  been  accustomed  to  walk,  hand  in  hand, 
with  a  faithful  friend,  and  her  he  possessed  no 
longer;  his  sufferings  were  unspeakable.  His 
father,  Wilhelm  Stilling,  sometimes  sought  to 
comfort  him  by  letter,  and  recalled  to  his  recol- 
lection the  years  of  his  childhood,  when  he  was 
reminded  how  long  and  painfully  he  also  had 
lamented  the  loss  of  his  departed  Doris;  yet 
time  had  gradually  healed  the  wound,  and  such 
would  be  the  case  with  him.  But  this  availed 
little ;  Stilling  was  in  distress,  and  saw  no  out- 
let by  which  he  could  escape. 

To  this  was  added  also  the  gloomy  close  of 
autumn,  which,  irrespective  of  other  circum- 
stances, had  much  influence  on  Stilling's  spir- 
its. When  he  looked  out  of  the  window,  and 
beheld  the  leafless  scene  around  him,  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  were  walking  solitary  amongst 
corpses,  and  saw  nothing  around  him  but  death 
and  corruption;  in  a  word,  his  melancholy  was 
indescribable. 

Four  weeks  after,  in  the  middle  of  November, 
one  Saturday  afternoon,  this  sorrowful  feeling 
rose  to  its  height;  he  ran  in  and  out,  and  could 
find  rest  no  where  ;  all  at  once  he  began  to  pray ; 
he  shut  himself  up  in  his  closet,  and  prayed  with 
the  utmost  fervour,  and  with  unspeakable  con- 
fidence, to  his  Heavenly  Father,  so  that  he  could 
not  leave  off.  When  in  the  lecturer's  chair,  his 
heart  continued  its  supplication ;  and  when' 
again  in  his  chamber,  he  was  again  upon  his 
knees,  calling  and  praying  aloud.  At  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  after  reading  his  last  lecture, 
and  as  he  had  just  entered  his  room,  the  servant- 
maid  came  and  told  him  a  young  man  had  just 
been  there  to  inquire  for  him.  Immediately  af- 
terwards, the  latter  entered;  with  a  friendly  and 
captivating  expression  of  countenance,  he  said, 

"  I  am  from  R  ,  and  hold  an  appointment  in 

a  government  office;  in  accordance  with  the 
electoral  regulations,  I  must  study  here  at  least 
half-a-year,  however  inconvenient  it  may  be  to 
me;  for  though  I  have  no  children,  yet  I  have 


112  HEINRICH 

a  wife; — I  am  glad,  however,  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  Stilling.  Now  1  have  a  request 
to  make  to  you;  I  have  heard,  with  regret,  that 
your  lady  is  dead,  and  that  you  are  solitary  and 
melancholy; — how  would  it  suit  you,  supposing 
you  permitted  me  and  my  wife  to  lodge  with 
you,  and  dine  at  the  same  table'?  We  should 
then  have  the  benefit  of  your  company,  and  you 
would  have  society  and  entertainment.  I  can 
flatter  myself  that  you  will  be  pleased  with  my 
■wife,  for  she  is  of  a  noble  mind  and  disposition." 

Sailing's  soul  revived  at  these  words,  and  he 
felt  as  if  some  one  had  all  at  once  taken  the 
burden  of  his  sorrows  from  his  shoulders,  so  that 
he  could  scarcely  conceal  his  extreme  pleasure. 
He  therefore  went  with  Mr.  Kühlenbach  to  the 
inn,  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  consort,  who  heard 
with  joy  his  willingness  to  receive  them.  The 
next  day,  this  excellent  and  worthy  couple  re- 
moved into  Stilling's  habitation. 

Every  thing  now  went  on  in  its  regular  and 
cheerful  course.  Stilling,  it  is  true,  was  still  al- 
ways melancholy  ;  but  it  was  a  pleasing  melan- 
choly, in  which  he  even  felt  a  comfort.  He  was 
now  also  enabled  to  publish  his  lectures  in  ro- 
tation, the  sums  he  received  for  the  copyright 
of  which  encouraged  him  with  respect  to  the 
liquidation  of  his  debts;  for  he  saw  a  boundless 
field  before  him,  in  which  he  could  labour  as  an 
author  all  his  life,  and  thus  make  his  income 
amount  yearly  to  fifteen  hundred  guilders.  He 
made  a  public  sale  of  his  superfluous  household 
furniture,  and  retained  nothing  more  than  he 
himself  required;  and  with  the  money  thus  ob- 
tained he  paid  his  most  urgent  debts. 

This  very  tolerable  mode  of  life  continued  till 
the  end  of  the  winter  of  the  year  1782.  Kühlen- 
bach then  began  to  talk  of  removing,  which  re- 
newed Stilling's  anxiety,  for  he  was  apprehen- 
sive that  his  horrible  melancholy  would'  again 
return  ;  he  therefore  sought  to  form  a  variety  of 
plans,  but  none  of  them  satisfied  him.  Just  at 
that  period,  he  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Eisen- 
hart, advising  him  to  marry  again.  Stilling 
clearly  perceived  that  this  would  be  the  best 
course  for  him;  he  therefore  resolved  upon  it, 
after  many  conflicts,  and  awaited  the  intimation 
and  guidance  of  Providence. 

His  first  thoughts  fell  upon  an  excellent  wid- 
ow-lady, who  had  one  child,  some  property, 
bore  the  noblest  of  characters,  and  was  of  very 
good  descent  and  respectable  family.  She  had 
already  given  great  proofs  of  her  domestic  man- 
agement, and  was  acquainted  with  Stilling.  He 
therefore  wrote  to  her;  the  worthy  woman  an- 
swered him,  and  stated  such  important  reasons 
which  prevented  her  from  marrying  again,  that 
Stilling,  as  a  man  of  integrity,  was  obliged  en- 
tirely to  relinquish  her.  This  unsuccessful  at- 
tempt made  him  timid,  and  he  resolved  upon 
acting  more  cautiously. 

About  this  time,  a  light  entered  his  mind  re- 
garding his  affairs,  of  which,  up  to  that  period, 
he  had  not  had  the  smallest  idea ;  for  as  he  was 
once  taking  a  walk  alone,  and  reviewing  his  ten 
years  of  sorrow  in  the  marriage-state,  he  inves- 
tigated whence  it  came  that  God  had  led  him 
through  such  painful  paths,  since  his  marriage 
was  so  entirely  ordered  by  Providence.  "  But 
was  it  really  thus  ordered  1"  inquired  he  ;  "  may 
not  human  weakness — may  not  impurity  of  mo- 
tive have  mingled  themselves  with  ill"  The 
scales  now  seemed  to  fall  from  his  eyes ;  he 
perceived  in  the  light  of  truth,  that  his  father-in- 
law,  his  departed  Christina,  and  he  himself,  had 


STILLING. 

acted  at  the  time  neither  according  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  religion,  nor  of  sound  reason;  for  it  is 
the  Christian's  highest  duty,  under  the  guidance 
of  Promdcnce,  to  examine  every  step,  and  partic- 
ularly the  choice  of  a  wife  or  a  husband,  ac- 
cording to  the  rules  of  sound  reason  and  propri- 
ety ;  and  after  this  has  been  properly  done,  ex- 
pect the  Divine  blessing.  But  all  this  was  neg- 
lected at  that  time  ;  Christina  was  an  innocent 
inexperienced  girl;  she  secretly  loved  Stilling,' 
clung  to  his  love,  prayed  to  God  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  her  wishes ;  and  thus  religion  and  af- 
fection mingled  in  her  hysteric  attacks.  Neither 
her  parents  nor  Stilling  knew  any  thing  of  this; 
they  looked  upon  it  as  Divine  inspiration  and 
influence,  and  were  obedient  to  it.  The  impro- 
priety and  imprudence  of  the  thing  showed  it- 
self too  late,  in  the  painful  consequences.  Chris- 
tina had  no  property,  Stilling  was  equally  desti- 
tute; he  was  compelled  to  study  with  other  peo- 
ple's money,  and  afterwards  was  unable  to  econ- 
omize like  a  tradesman,  so  that  he  could  neither 
support  himself  nor  pay  his  debts.  Christina, 
on  the  contrary,  who  was  brought  up  in  a  trades- 
man's family,  expected  from  her  husband  the 
principal  regulation  of  the  household,  and  econ- 
omized only  with  that  which  came  to  her  hand ; 
she  would  therefore  have  made  any  tradesman 
happy,  but  never  a  man  of  learning. 

Stilling,  however,  clearly  recognized,  with  all 
this,  that  his  ten  years  of  painful  probation,  as 
well  as  the  events  of  his  whole  life,  had  been  in- 
expressibly beneficial  to  his  character  and  his 
whole  existence.  God  had  made  use  of  his  own 
impurity  as  soap,  in  order  to  purify  him  more 
and  more;  his  dear  and  beatified  Christina  had 
stood  the  ordeal,  and  had  been  perfected  in  this 
very  path.  Stilling  therefore  broke  out  in  loud 
thanks  to  God,  that  he  had  done  all  things  so 
well. 

This  discovery  he  also  communicated  to  Mr. 
Friedenberg,  but  the  latter  took  it  amiss;  he  al- 
ways believed  the  thing  was  from  God,  that  Still- 
ing alone  was  to  blame  for  every  thing,  and 
that  he  ought  to  amend  himself.  I  sincerely  de- 
sire my  readers  not  to  cherish  any  bitterness 
against  this  worthy  man,  who  has  now  finished 
his  course.  He  was  upright  and  pious,  and 
was  recognized,  loved,  and  honored  as  such  by 
all  men.  But  how  easily  may  the  most  upright 
man  mistake;  and  what  saint  in  heaven  has  not 
erred  !  However,  it  was  most  repugnant  to  him 
that  Stilling  was  determined  to  marry  again. 

His  first  attempt  to  find  a  consort  being  un- 
successful, Stilling's  inmate,  Kühlenbach,  began 
to  propose.  He  was  acquainted  with  an  excel- 
lent young  lady  in  S  ,  who  possessed  con- 
siderable property,  and  who,  he  hoped,  would 
be  suitable  for  Stilling.  I  must,  however,  ob- 
serve, that  every  one  now  advised  him  to  take  a 
rich  wife;  for  they  concluded  that  he  would  bp 
the  most  easily  assisted  by  so  doing,  and  he 
himself  thought  it  was  the  best  step  he  could 
take.  He  often  shuddered  indeed  for  himself 
and  his  children,  when  he  thought  of  a  rich 
wife,  who  perhaps  had  no  other  good  qualities; 
however,  he  placed  his  trust  in  God.  Kühlen 
bach  left  him  at  Easter;  and  at  Whitsuntide 

Stilling  travelled  to  S  ,  to  make  the  second 

attemp;;  but  this,  together  with  the  third,  was 
fruitless,  for  both  persons  were  previously  en- 
gaged. 

Stilling  now  put  a  full  stop  to  these  endeav- 
ours; it  was  not  at  all  congenial  to  him  to  re- 
ceive refusals;  he  therefore  presented  himself 


STILLING'S  DO 


MESTIC  LIFE. 


113 


with  a  contrite  heart  before  God,  and  said  to 
Him,  with  the  most  fervent  filial  confidence, 
"My  Father!  I  resign  my  destiny  entirely  to 
Thee;  1  have  now  done  "what  1  could.  At 
present  I  look  for  Thy  direction;  if  it  be  thy 
will  that  I  should  marry  again,  do  thou  conduct 
a  faithful  spouse  to  me ;  but  if  I  am  to  remain 
single,  do  thou  tranquillize  my  heart!" 

At  that  time,  that  excellent  lady,  Sophia  Von 
la  Roche,  was  residing  with  her  husband  and 
her  still  unmarried  children  at  S  .  Still- 
ing had  visited  her;  but  as  he  did  not  enjoy  her 
intimate  friendship,  he  had  told  her  nothing  of 
his  intention. 

The  first  post-day  after  the  above-mentioned 
prayer  and  filial  resignation  to  Providence,  he 
received,  very  unexpectedly,  a  letter  from  that 
admirable  lady ;  he  opened  it  eagerly,  and  found, 
to  his  astonishment,  amongst  other  things,  the 
following: — 

"Your  friends  here  have  not  been  so  prudent 
as  you  were  with  me ;  for  it  is  here  a  generally 
well-known  affair,  that  Stilling  has' made  sever- 
al unsuccessful  offers  of  marriage.  This  vexes 
me,  and  I  wish  it  had  not  occurred. 

"  Must  you  necessarily  have  a  lady  of  prop- 
erty'? or  would  one  of  my  friends  suit  you,  of 
whom  I  will  now  give  you  a  correct  descrip- 
tion 1  She  is  very  virtuous,  handsome,  and  of 
a  noble,  ancient,  and  learned  family,  and  excel- 
lent parents.  Her  father  is  dead;  but  her  ven- 
erable, sickly  mother  is  still  alive.  She  is  about 
twenty-three  years  of  age,  and  has  suffered 
much  ;  she  has  been  well  brought  up,  exceeding- 
ly able  in  every  female  employment,  and  a  very 
economical  housekeeper;  devout,  and  an  angel 
for  your  two  children.  She  has  not  much  prop- 
erty, but  will  receive  a  regular  dowry,  &c.  If  all 
these  qualities,  for  the  truth  of  which  I  pledge  my- 
self, are  an  equivalent  with  you  for  some  thousand 
guilders,  please  inform  me.  I  will  then  mention 
her  to  you,  and  tell  you  what  you  have  to  do," 
&c. 

Stilling's  feelings  on  reading  this  letter  cannot 
be  described ;  a  few  days  before  he  had  solemn- 
ly committed  the  affair  of  his  marriage  to  Provi- 
dence, and  now  a  person  is  pointed  out  to  him, 
who  possesses  exactly  all  the  qualities  which  he 
desired.  The  thought  certainly  occurred  to  him  : 
"  But  she  has  no  property;  will  not  my  torment 
therefore  continue  V  However,  he  dared  not 
reason  now  according  to  his  own  principles; 
she  was  the  object  to  which  the  finger  of  his 
heavenly  Leader  pointed ;  he  therefore  obeyed, 
and  that  very  willingly.  He  shewed  the  letter 
to  Mr.  Siegfried  and  his  lady,  as  well  as  to  the 
Lutheran  preacher  and  his  spouse;  for  these 
four  persons  were  his  most  intimate  friends. 
Allot" them  recognized,  in  a  very  lively  manner, 
the  intimation  of  Providence,  and  encouraged 
him  to  follow  it.  He  decided  therefore  to  do  so, 
with  God's  help ;  and  wrote  a  very  obliging  let- 
ter to  Madame  Von  la  Roche,  in  which  he  be- 
sought her  to  make  him  acquainted  with  the  in- 
dividual, for  he  would  obey  the  intimation  of 
Providence,  and  follow  her  advice.  A  week  af- 
ter, he  received  a  reply ;  the  worthy  lady  wrote 
to  him  that  her  friend's  name  was  Selma  Von 
St.  Florentin,  and  that  she  was  the  sister  of  the 
senatorial  advocate  of  that  name,  who  resided 
there ;  that  all  she  had  written  of  her  was  true ; 
that  she  had  also  shewn  her  his  letter,  mention- 
ed something  of  the  affair  to  her,  and  she  had 
expressed  herself  to  the  effect  that  it  would  not 
be  disagreeable  to  her  to  receive  a  visit  from 


Stilling.  Madame  Von  la  Roche  advised  him 
therefore  to  take  a  journey  to  Reichenburg,  where 
Selma  was  at  that  time  residing  at  the  Eagle 
Inn,  because  the  innkeeper  was  a  relation  of 
hers.  Stilling  was  always  rapid  and  ardent  in 
his  undertakings;  he  therefore  directly  travelled 
to  Reichenburg,  which  is  a  day's  journey  from 

Rittersburg,  and  four  leagues  from  S  .  He, 

consequently,  arrived  there  in  the  evening,  and 
drove  to  the  inn  above-mentioned.  But  he  was 
now  in  a  dilemma;  he  dared  not  enquire  after 
the  lady  whom  he  sought,  and  yet  without  this, 
his  journey  would  probably  be  fruitless;  how- 
ever, he  hoped  she  would  make  her  appear- 
ance, and  that  God  would  further  direct  his 
way.  As  it  was  still  very  early,  he  went  to  an 
intimate  friend,  to  whom  he  communicated  his 
intentions ;  and  although  this  friend  had  an- 
other plan  for  him,  yet  he  confessed  that  Selma 
was  all  that  Madame  Von  la  Roche  had  de- 
scribed her  to  be;  nay,  that  she  was  even  wor- 
thy of  higher  praise,  if  possible,  but  with  all  this, 
not  rich.  Stilling  rejoiced  in  his  heart  at  this 
testimony,  and  replied,  "Although  she  is  not 
rich,  if  she  be  only  a  good  housekeeper,  all  will 
go  well." 

He  now  returned  to  the  inn;  but  notwith- 
standing all  his  observation,  he  could  hear  or 
see  nothing  of  her.  At  nine  o'clock  supper  was 
served  up;  the  company  at  the  table  d'hote  was 
agreeable  and  select ;  yet  he  sat  as  on  thorns, 
for  even  then  Selma  did  not  appear;  he  was 
grieved,  and  knew  not  what  he  should  do  next. 
At  length,  when  the  dessert  was  placed  on  the 
table,  a  venerable  old  man,  who  sat  on  his  left, 
began  as  follows  : — "  A  pretty  joke  has  happen- 
ed to  me.  I  had  resolved  to-day  to  pay  my  re- 
spects to  Madame  Von  la  Roche;  and  as  our 
agreeable  dinner-companion,  Mademoiselle  Von 
St.  Florentin  (here  Stilling  pricked  up  his  ears 
very  nimbly)  heard  that  I  was  returning  this 
evening,  she  requested  I  would  take  her  with 
me,  because  she  wished  to  visit  her  brother  the 
advocate.    Her  company  was  very  agreeable 

to  me ;  she  therefore  rode  with  me  to  S  , 

went  to  her  brother,  and  I  to  Madame  la  Roche. 
At  dinner,  she  sent  to  tell  me  that  she  would  walk 
with  her  brother  towards  Reichenburg,  and  would 
wait  for  the  coach  at  a  certain  village,  where 
she  requested  I  would  stop  and  take  her  back 
with  me.  I  therefore  mentioned  this  to  the 
coachman,  who  however  forgot  it,  and  took  an- 
other way ;  consequently,  we  are  now  deprived 
of  her  society." 

Much  was  then  said  in  Selma's  praise,  so  that 
Stilling  had  enough  to  listen  to;  he  now  knew 
what  he  wished  to  know — the  object  of  his  de- 
sires was  in  S  .    He  therefore  retired  to  his 

chamber  as  early  as  he  could,  not  to  sleep  but 
to  think ;  he  reflected  whether  his  not  meeting 
with  her  was  not  an  intimation  of  Providence, 
in  order  to  draw  him  .away  from  her.  He  tor- 
mented himself  the  whole  night  with  this  idea, 
and  knew  not  whether  he  should  return  straight- 
way home  again,  or  go  first  to  S  ,  in  or- 
der previously  to  speak  with  Madame  Von  la 
Roche.  At  length  the  latter  decision  predomi- 
nated ;  he  therefore  rose  at  four  o'clock  in  the 

morning,  paid  his  bill,  and  went  on  foot  to  S  , 

where  he  arrived  on  the  25th  of  June,  1782,  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

On  entering  the  parlour  of  Madame  Von  la 
Roche,  the  In  iter  clapped  her  hands  together, 
and  exclaimed,  with  an  inexpressibly  kind  look, 
"  Ha,  Stilling !  where  do  you  come  from  V 


114  HEINRICH 

Stilling  replied,  "You  directed  me  to  Reichen- 
burg, but  Selina  is  not  there;  she  is  in  this 
town." 

"  Selma  is  here  !  how  is  that  V 

He  then  stated  the  whole  affair  to  her. 

"  Stilling,  this  is  admirable !  it  is  the  finger  of 
Providence.  I  have  been  reflecting  on  the  sub- 
ject; at  the  inn  at  Reichenburg  you  would  not 
once  have  dared  to  look  at  her,  much  less  to 
speak  with  her ;  but  here  it  can  be  all  arranged." 

These  words  quite  cheered  him,  and  tranquil- 
lized his  heart. 

Madame  Von  la  Roche  now  made  arrange- 
ments for  a  meeting.    Mr.  Von  St.  Florentin's 

colleague  in  office,  Mr.  P  ,  together  with  his 

lady,  were  very  good  friends  of  Madame  Von  la 
Roche,  as  well  as  of  Selma  ;  she  therefore  wrote 
a  note  to  them,  in  which  she  informed  them  that 
Stilling  was  at  her  house,  and  requested  them 
to  mention  it  to  Selma  and  her  brother,  and  beg 
of  them  to  take  a  walk,  about  ten  o'clock,  in 

their  garden,  and  that  Mr.  P  would  then 

call  for  Stilling,  to  take  him  thither. 

All  this  accordingly  took  place ;  advocate 
P  's  lady  went  to  fetch  Selma  and  her  broth- 
er, and  Mr.  P  conducted  Stilling. 

What  his  feelings  were  upon  the  way.  God 

knows.    Mr.  P         led  him  out  of  the  gates, 

and  to  the  left  by  the  walls,  towards  the  south, 
into  a  beautiful  shrubbery,  with  trellis-work  and 
a  handsome  summer-house.  The  sun  shone  in 
the  cloudless  sky,  and  it  was  a  most  beautiful 
summer-day. 

On  entering,  he  saw  Selma,  dressed  in  an 
orange-coloured  silken  gown,  and  a  black  straw 
hat,  walking  much  disturbed  amongst  the  trees; 
she  wrung  her  hands,  evidently  in  extreme  men- 
tal emotion ;  in  another  place,  h<>r  brother  was 
walking  with  the  advocate's  lady.  As  Stilling 
approached  and  appeared  to  them,  they  all  placed 
themselves  in  a  position  to  receive  him.  After 
he  had  complimented  them  generally  all  round, 
he  stepped  up  to  Selma's  brother;  this  gentle- 
man had  a  dignified  and  very  handsome  figure, 
which  pleased  him  extremely  at  first  sight ;  he 
approached  him  therefore,  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  am 
desirous  of  soon  beingable  to  call  you  brother!" 
This  address,  which  could  only  have  proceeded 
from  Stilling,  must  necessarily  strike  a  man  of 
such  a  refined  education  and  knowledge  of  the 
world;  he  therefore  made  a  bow,  smiled,  and 
said,  "  Your  obedient  servant,  professor  Stilling! 
I  shall  account  it  an  honour." 

Mr.  P         and  his  lady,  with  St.  Florentin, 

now  hastened  into  the  summer-house,  and  left 
Stilling  alone  with  Selma. 

He  walked  towards  her,  presented  her  his 
a.m,  and  led  her  slowly  forwards;  just  as  di- 
rectly and  without  circumlocution,  he  said  to 
her,  "  Mademoiselle,  you  know  who  I  am  (for 
she  had  read  his  history) ;  you  know  also  the 
object  of  my  journey ;  I  have  no  properly,  but  a 
sufficient  income,  and  two  children;  my  charac- 
ter is  as  I  have  described  it  in  the  history  of  my 
life.  If  you  can  resolve  to  become  mine,  do  not 
leave  me  long  in  suspense ;  I  am  accustomed  to 
hasten  to  the  object  I  have  in  view  without  cir-. 
cumlocution.  I  believe  if  you  make  choice  of 
me.  you  will  never  repent  of  it ;  I  fear  God,  and 
will  seek  to  make  you  happy." 

Selma  recovered  from  her  confusion,  and  with 
an  unspeakably  graceful  expression  of  counte- 
nance, she  raised  her  beaming  eyes,  elevated 
her  right  hand,  in  which  she  held  a  fan,  and 
said,  "  What  is  the  will  of  Providence,  is  my 
will  also." 


STILLING. 

They  now  arrived  at  the  summer-house,  where 
he  was  considered,  investigated,  examined,  and 
exposed  to  view  on  all  sides.  Selma  alone  cast 
her  eyes  down,  and  did  not  say  a  word.  Stilling 
shewed  himself  unvarnished,  just  as  he  was,  and 
did  not  dissemble.  It  was  then  agreed  that  Sel- 
ma and  her  brother  should  come  in  the  afternoon, 
after  dinner,  to  Madame  Von  la  Roche,  and  that 
there  the  matter  should  be  further  discussed;  on 
which  every  one  went  home  again. 

Sophia  asked  him,  immediately  on  entering 
the  room,  how  he  had  been  pleased  with  her 
Selma. 

Stilling. — "Admirably  !  she  is  an  angel !" 

Madame  Von  la  Roche. — "  Is  she  not  1  I  hope 
God  will  bring  you  together." 

Alter  dinner,  Selma  was  eagerly  expected,  but 
she  did  not  come.  Sophia  and  Stilling  became 
uneasy  ;  tears  forced  their  way  into  the  eyes  of 
both ;  at  length  the  worthy  lady  made  a  propo- 
sition, should  Selma  entirely  refuse  her  consent, 
which  fully  shewed  her  angelic  soul  as  it  really 
was;  but  modesty  and  other  important  reasons 
forbid  me  to  mention  it. 

At  the  moment  when  Stilling's  anxiety  had 
reached  its  height,  Mr.  Von  St.  Florentin  with 
his  sister  entered  the  room.  Sophia  took  hold 
of  the  advocate's  arm,  and  conducted  him  into 
an  adjoining  apartment,  and  Stilling  drew  Sel- 
ma near  him  upon  the  sofa. 

Stilling. — "  Was  it  indifference,  or  what  was 
it,  that  you  suffered  me  to  wait  so  anxiously  ?' 

"  Not  indifference,"  answered  she,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes  ;  "  I  was  obliged  to  pay  a  visit,  and 
was  detained  ;  my  feelings  are  inexpressible." 

Stilling. — "  You  therefore  determine  to  become 
mine  ?' 

Selma.—1'  If  my  mother  consents,  I  am  eter- 
nally yours  !" 

Stilling. — "  Yes,  but  your  mother  1 — " 

Selma. — "  Will  have  no  objection  to  it." 

He  embraced  and  kissed  her  with  unspeak- 
able delight;  and  at  the  same  moment  Sophia, 
with  the  advocate,  entered  the  room.  They 
stopped  short,  and  were  evidently  amazed. 

"Are  you  so  far  advanced  already?"  ex- 
claimed Sophia,  with  evident  pleasure. 

"  Yes  !  yes  !"  said  he,  and  led  her  arm-in-arm 
towards  them. 

The  noble-minded  soul  now  embraced  both, 
lifted  up  her  eyes,  and  said,  with  tears  and  the 
utmost  inward  emotion,  "  God  bless  you,  my 
children !  The  beatified  Christina  will  now 
look  down  with  heavenly  delight  upon  her  Still- 
ing, for  she  has  besought  this  angel  as  a  wife 
for  thee,  my  son  !" 

This  scene  was  heart  and  soul-affecting ;  Sel- 
ma's brother  also  mingled  with  the  group,  bless- 
ed them,  and  vowed  eternal  and  fraternal  fidelity 
to  Stilling. 

Sophia  then  sat  down,  taking  her  Selma  upon 
her  lap,  who  hid  her  face  in  her  friend's  bosomr 
and  bedewed  it  with  tears. 

All  at  length  recovered  themselves.  The  at- 
traction Stilling  felt  to  this  excellent  young  lady, 
who  was  now  his  betrothed,  was  unlimited,  al- 
though he  was  still  unacquainted  with  the  his- 
tory of  her  life.  She,  on  the  other  hand,  de- 
clared she  felt  an  indescribable  esteem  and  rev- 
erence for  him,  which  would  soon  be  changed 
into  cordial  love.  She  then  approached  him, 
and  said,  with  dignity,  "  I  will  take  the  place  of 
your  departed  Christina  towards  your  children, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  enable  me  boldly  to  pre- 
sent them  to  her  at  a  future  day." 


STILLING'S  DO 


MESTIC  LIFE. 


115 


They  now  separated:  Selma  rode  the  same 
evening  to  Reichenburg,  from  whence  she  in- 
tended to  travel  to  Creutznach,  to  her  mother's 
sister,  and  there  pass  the  period  before  her  mar- 
riage. When  she  was  gone,  Stilling  wrote  a 
letter  to  her,  which  was  sent  after  her  the  fol- 
lowing day  ;  and  then  he  also  travelled  back, 
well  pleased  and  happy,  to  Rittersburg. 

When  he  was  again  alone,  and  minutely  re- 
flected upon  the  whole  affair,  his  many  debts 
recurred  to  him,  and  pressed  heavily  upon  his 
heart ;  of  these  he  had  not  mentioned  a  word  to 
Selma.  This  was  certainly  very  wrong,  and  in 
reality,  an  unpardonable  fault,  if  that  may  be 
called  a  fault,  which  arises  from  a  moral  impos- 
sibility. Selma  knew  Stilling  only  from  his 
writings  and  from  report;  she  saw  him  for  the 
first  time,  on  the  day  she  promised  him  mar- 
riage ;  that,  which  between  young  people  is 
called  love,  had  no  place  in  the  matter;  the 
whole  affair  was  determination,  consideration, 
and  the  result  arising  from  rational  reflection. 
Now  if  he  had  said  any  thing  about  his  debts, 
she  would  certainly  have  drawn  back,  terror- 
struck;  Stilling  felt  this  fully,  but  he  also  felt 
what  the  consequences  of  a  discovery  of  the 
kind  would  be  when  he  could  no  longer  with- 
hold it.  He  was  therefore  in  a  dreadful  strife 
with  himself,  but  found  himself  too  weak  to 
mention  the  matter. 

Meanwhile,  he  received  the  first  letter  from 
her;  he  was  astonished  at  the  mind  that  dictated 
it,  and  looked  forwards  for  future  happiness. 
Liberty  of  feeling,  without  affectation — correct- 
ness and  order  in  her  thoughts — well-made  and 
mature  resolutions  reigned  in  every  line ;  and 
every  one  to  whom  he  confided  the  letter  for 
perusal,  pronounced  him  happy  in  the  prospect 
of  such  a  partner. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  consent  of  Madame 
Von  St.  Floren  tin  was  received;  it  was  com- 
municated to  Stilling,  and  all  was  now  in  order. 
He  therefore  travelled  to  Creutznach  to  his  be- 
trothed, in  order  to  spend  some  days  with  her, 
and  become  more  intimately  acquainted  with 
her.  He  there  learned  to  know  her  in  reality ; 
and  found  how  all  the  painful  and  tedious  suf- 
ferings he  had  hitherto  endured  were  supera- 
bundantly rewarded  by  the  everlasting  and  pa- 
ternal love  of  God ;  but  he  found  it  impossible 
to  make  any  mention  of  his  debts  to  her,  and 
therefore  prayed  unceasingly  to  God,  that  He 
■would  so  order  the  affair  as  that  it  might  have  a 
favorable  termination. 

Selma's  aunt  was  also  a  very  worthy  and 
pleasant  lady,  who  became  very  fond  of  him, 
and  was  glad  of  this  addition  to  the  family. 

Near  this  aunt  dwelt  a  merchant  of  the  name 
of  Schmerz,  a  man  of  much  taste  and  knowl- 
edge. This  gentleman  had  read  Selling's  his- 
tory, he  was  therefore  an  object  of  attention  to 
him;  hence  he  invited  him  one  evening,  with 
Selma  and  her  aunt,  to  his  beautiful  garden, 
well-known  to  many  connoisseurs.  It  lies  on 
the  north-west  side  of  the  town,  and  includes  in 
it  what  was  previously  a  part  of  the  old  town- 
ditch. 

To  this  charming  pleasure-ground,  Schmerz, 
as  mentioned  above,  had  invited  Stilling,  Selma, 
and  her  aunt,  to  spend  an  evening.  After  they 
had  walked  about  for  some  time,  taken  a  view 
of  every  thing,  and  it  had  become  dusk,  they 
were  conducted  into  the  grotto,  where  they  were 
served  with  refreshments  until  it  was  quire  dark. 
At  length  Schmerz  entered,  and  said,  "  Friends, 


come  once  more  into  the  garden,  in  order  to  see 
how  the  night  beautifies  every  thing."  All  fol- 
lowed him  ;  Stilling  went  before,  having  Schmerz 
on  his  left,  and  Selma  on  his  right;  the  others 
followed  behind.  As  they  entered  the  long  walk, 
a  sight  surprised  them  with  extreme  astonish- 
ment ;  the  urn  above,  in  the  poplar-wood,  was 
illuminated  with  many  little  lamps,  so  that  the 
whole  wood  glittered  like  green  and  gold*. 

"Schmerz*  had  illuminated  his  urn  for  Still- 
ing, and  near  him  walked  his  Salome,t  harbin- 
ger of  future  and  sublime  peace  !" 

Beautiful,  charming,  and  affecting  thought  1 

After  they  had  all  finished  their  joyful  expres- 
sions of  admiration,  there  commenced  behind 
the  urn,  in  the  obscurity  of  the  wood,  very  af- 
fecting music,  beautifully  performed  on  wind- 
instruments;  it  was  the  charming  air  from  Ze- 
mira  and  Azor,  which  is  sung  behind  the  mir- 
ror; the  sky  was  at  the  same  time  overcast  with 
heavy  clouds,  and  it  thundered  and  lightened  be- 
tween. Stilling  sobbed  and  wept ;  the  scene  was 
too  powerful  for  his  soul  and  his  heart ;  he  kissed 
and  embraced  first  Schmerz  and  then  his  Selma, 
and  in  fact  he  overflowed  with  sensibility. 

He  now  discovered  something  new  in  his  in- 
tended ;  she  also  felt  it  all,  and  was  affected 
likewise;  but  she  continued  perfectly  tranquil; 
her  sensations  were  no  precipitous  mountain- 
torrent,  but  a  peacefully  flowing  brook  in  a 
meadowy  vale. 

Two  days  before  his  departure  from  Creutz- 
nach, he  was  sitting  in  the  hall  with  Selma  and 
her  aunt,  when  the  postman  entered,  and  pre- 
sented a  letter  to  Selma ;  she  took  it,  broke  it 
open,  read  it,  and  turned  pale ;  she  then  drew 
her  aunt  with  her  into  the  parlour,  soon  came 
out  again,  and  went  upstairs  into  her  chamber. 
The  aunt  now  came,  sat  down  by  Stilling,  and 
informed  him  that  Selma  had  received  a  letter 
from  a  friend,  in  which  it  was  stated  to  her  that 
he  was  much  involved  in  debt;  this  had  sur- 
prised her,  and  she  therefore  requested  him  to 
go  upstairs  to  her  immediately  and  speak  with, 
her,  in  order  that  she  might  not  withdraw  her 
consent ;  for  there  were  many  worthy  men  that 
had  the  same  misfortune,  and  any  thing  of  this 
kind  ought  not  to  cause  a  separation.  Stilling 
accordingly  went  upstairs,  with  sensations  per- 
fectly like  those  of  a  poor  culprit  who  is  led  up 
before  the  judge  to  receive  his  sentence. 

On  entering  the  room,  he  found  her  sitting  at 
a  little  table,  leaning  her  head  upon  her  hand. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dearest  Selma,"  he  beganr 
"  that  I  have  said  nothing  to  you  respecting  my 
debts.  I  could  not  possibly  do  so,  for  I  should 
not  then  have  gained  your  consent;  and  I  can- 
not live  without  you.  My  debts  have  not  arisen 
from  a  love  of  splendour  or  extravagance,  but 
from  extreme  necessity.  I  can  earn  much,  and 
am  unwearied  in  my  labors.  With  regularity 
in  housekeeping,  they  will  be  liquidated  in  a 
few  years ;  and  if  I  should  die,  no  one  can 
make  any  demand  upon  you.  You  must  there- 
fore imagine  the  matter  to  yourself,  as  if  you 
had  yearly  a  few  hundred  guilders  less  income  ; 
you  lose  nothing  further  by  it;  with  a  thousand 
guilders,  you  can  meet  the  house  expenses,  and 
the  residue  1  will  apply  to  the  payment  of  my 
debts.  However,  dear  and  valued  friend,  I  now 
leave  you  at  perfect  liberty,  and  if  it  were  to 
cost  me  my  life,  yet  I  am  incapable  of  keeping 

*  Schmerz  is  the  German  word  for  pain, 
f  Salome,  from  whence  Selma  is  derived,  means  peace, 
the  kingdom  of  peace. 


V 


116 


H  E  I  N  R  I  C 


H  STILLING. 


you  to  your  word,  from  the  moment  you  repent 
of  it." 

So  saying,  he  was  silent,  and  awaited  his 
sentence. 

She  then  arose  with  the  utmost  inward  emo- 
tion, looked  at  him  with  a  kind  and  penetrating 
expression  of  countenance,  and  replied,  "  No,  I 
will  not  forsake  you,  Stilling.  God  has  destined 
me  to  assist  in  bearing  your  burden.  I  will 
gladly  do  so ;  be  encouraged,  we  shall  also 
overcome  this,  with  the  help  of  God." 

How  Stilling  felt  can  scarcely  be  conceived  ; 
he  wept,  fell  upon  her  neck,  and  exclaimed, 
"Angel  of  God !" 

They  then  descended  the  stairs,  hand-in-hand ; 
Sei  ma's  aunt  rejoiced  exceedingly  at  the  happy 
result  of  this  vexatious  and  dangerous  affair, 
and  sweetly  comforted  both  by  her  own  experi- 
ence. 

How  wisely  did  Providence  again  rule  Sell- 
ing's destiny  !  Do  not  tell  me  that  prayers  are 
not  heard  ;  an  earlier  discovery  would  have  ru- 
ined every  thing,  and  a  later  would  probably 
have  occasioned  vexation.  It  was  then  just  the 
right  time 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Stilling  now  travelled  back  again,  quietly 
and  contentedly,  to  Rittersburg,  and  made  prep- 
arations for  the  celebration  of  his  marriage, 
which  was  to  take  place  at  the  house  of  Selma's 
aunt,  in  Creutznach. 

The  space  of  time  which  intervened,  I  will  fill 
up  with  the  history  of 

SELMA'S  LIFE. 

In  the  middle  of  the  previous  century,  there 
lived  in  France  two  brothers,  both  of  whom 
were  of  an  ancient  Italian  noble  family;  they 
were  called  knights  of  St.  Florentin  de  Tansor. 
One  of  them  became  a  Huguenot,  and  was 
therefore  obliged  to  flee,  and  leave  his  property 
behind  him ;  moneyless,  he  took  refuge  in  the 
Hessian  dominions,  where  he  settled  at  Ziegen- 
hain, commenced  business,  and  married  a  worthy 
young  woman  of  the  middle  class.  One  of  his 
sons,  or  perhaps  his  only  son,  studied  jurispru- 
dence, became  a  great,  active,  and  upright  man. 
and  Syndic  in  the  imperial  city  of  Worms  ;  from 
whence  he  was  under  the  painful  necessity,  when 
this  city  was  destroyed  by  the  French  at  the  close 
of  the  previous  century,  of  emigrating  with  his 
wife  and  many  children,  and  leaving  his  habita- 
tion in  ashes.  He  retired  to  Frankfort-on-the- 
Maine,  where  he  again  became  Syndic,  counsel- 
lor to  many  imperial  cities,  and  a  man  of  emi- 
nence. Amongst  his  many  sons,  there  was  like- 
wise an  able  lawyer,  who  for  a  period  occupied 
the  place  of  government-assessor  in  Marburg, 
and  afterwards  accepted  the  place  of  chancery- 
director  at  Usingen. 

One  of  his  sons,  of  the  name  of  Johann  Wil- 
helm, was  the  father  of  Selma ;  he  first  of  all  fill- 
ed the  place  of  counsellor  of  finance  at  W — , 
and  was  afterwards  appointed  finance-director 
in  the  principality  of  Rothingen,  in  Upper  Swa- 
bia.  He  was  a  man  of  great  penetration,  fiery 
resolve,  rapid  accomplishment,  and  incorrupti- 
ble integrity;  and  as  he  always  lived  at  court, 
he  was,  at  the  same  time,  a  very  refined  man  of 
the  world,  and  his  house  was  the  favorite  re- 
sort of  the  noblest  and  the  best  of  men.  His 


consort  was  likewise  noble-minded,  kind-heart- 
ed, and  very  genteel  in  her  manners. 

This  couple  had  five  children,  two  sons  and 
three  daughters,  all  of  whom  are  still  living. 
The  whole  five  need  not  my  commendations : 
they  are  excellent  characters.  The  eldest  daugh- 
ter married  a  counsellor  and  magistrate  in  The 

principality  of  U  ;  the  eldest  son  is  advocate 

in  S  ;  the  second  son,  counsellor  of  finance 

in  Rothingen ;  the  second  daughter  is  united  to 
a  worthy  preacher  in  Franconia;  and  the  young- 
est child  is  Selma. 

The  finance-director,  Mr.  Von  F.  Florentin, 
had  a  moderate  income,  but  he  was  too  consci- 
entious to  accumulate  wealth.  On  his  sudden 
death,  therefore,*  in  the  year  1776,  his  widow 
found  that  he  had  left  little;  she  received,  in- 
deed, a  pension  on  which  she  could  subsist,  and 
all  her  children  were  provided  for,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Selma,  to  whom  a  variety  of  offers 
were  made ;  but  she  was  only  in  her  sixteenth 
year,  and  besides  this,  none  of  these  modes  of 
provision  pleased  her. 

She  had  formerly  a  very  rich  and  distant  re- 
lation, who  in  her  fiftieth  year  had  married  a 
young  cavalier  of  twenty-seven,  and  was  at  that 
time  residing  on  her  estate  in  Lower  Saxony, 
in  a  very  handsome  mansion.  The  St.  Floren- 
tin family  knew,  meanwhile,  nothing  but  good 
of  this  person ;  and  when  the  lady,  who  was  at 
the  same  time  Selma's  godmother,  heard  of  the 
finance  director's  death,  she  wrote,  in  the  year 
1778,  to  the  widow,  and  requested  her  to  send 
her  Selma  to  her,  promising  to  provide  for  her, 
and  make  her  happy. 

Madame  Von  St.  Florentin  found  it  almost 
impossible  for  her  to  decide  upon  sending  away 
her  dearly  beloved  daughter,  to  a  distance  of  up- 
wards of  seventy  German  miles;  however,  as 
all  her  friends  and  children  earnestly  urged  her 
to  it,  she  at  length  consented.  Selma  kneeled 
down  before  her,  and  the  venerable  woman  gave 
her  her  blessing,  amidst  floods  of  tears.  In  Octo- 
ber of  the  year  1778,  she  set  off,  therefore,  under 
safe  convoy,  to  Lower  Saxony,  and  was  in 
Frankfort  just  at  the  time  when" Stilling  passed 
through  it  with  his  wife  and  children,  on  re- 
moving from  Sch  nenthal  to  Rittersburg. 

After  a  long  and  tedious  journey,  she  at  length 
arrived  at  the  mansion  of  her  godmother,  a  gen- 
eral's widow,  he  having  gone  over  to  America, 
where  he  died.  Here  she  soon  perceived  that 
she  was  disappointed,  for  she  was  ill-treated  in 
a  variety  of  ways.  This  was  a  school  and  a  hard 
trial  for  the  good  girl.  She  was  well  brought 
up,  and  every  one  had  behaved  kindly  to  her; 
but  here  no  one  had  any  feeling  for  her  talents; 
it  is  true,  there  were  people  enough  that  esteem- 
ed her,  but  they  could  only  comfort,  without  be- 
ing able  to  help  her. 

To  this  something  of  a  different  nature  was 
added :  a  young  cavalier  made  her  serious  offers 
of  marriage ;  these  she  accepted,  the  marriage 
was  agreed  upon  between  the  families,  on  both 
sides,  and  she  was  actually  betrothed  to  him. 
He  then  set  out  on  a  journey,  and  on  this  jour- 
ney, something  occurred  which  withdrew  him 
again  from  Selma,  and  the  affair  came  to  no- 
thing. 

I  am  silent  respecting  the  true  reason  of  his 
faithlessness;  the  great  day  will  develope  it. 

By  degrees,  the  sufferings  of  the  good  and  pi- 
ous "girl  rose  to  their  height,  and  at  the  same 
time  she  learned  that  her  godmother  owed  much 
more  than  she  possessed.   She  had  now  no  long 


STILLING'S   DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


117 


er  any  reason  for  remaining,  and  determined, 
therefore,  to  return  to  her  mother. 

It  would  not  become  me  to  enter  more  partic- 
ularly into  the  description  of  her  sufferings,  and 
her  conduct  under  them;  did  I  dare  to  tell  all, 
my  readers  would  be  astonished.  'But  she  is 
still  living,  and  already  blushes  at  that  which, 
as  Sailing's  biographer,  I  must  necessarily  say. 

She  grew  sickly  also  at  the  same  time;  and  it 
appeared  as  if  her  sorrow  would  have  ended  in 
a  consumption.  However,  she  undertook  the 
journey,  after  having  endured  for  two  years  the 
furnace  of  affliction.  On  reaching  Cassel,  she 
stopped  at  the  house  of  an  excellent,  pious,  and 

worthy  friend,  government-counsellor  M  ; 

here  she  continued  three  quarters  of  a  year,  du- 
ring which  time  she  entirely  regained  her  health. 

She.then  pursued  her  journey,  and  arrived  at 

length  at  her  brother's  at  S  ,  where  she  again 

resided  a  considerable  time.  Here  a  variety  of 
opportunities  presented  themselves  of  providing 
for  herself  becomingly ;  but  none  of  them  suited 
her ;  for  her  exalted  ideas  of  virtue,  conjugal  af- 
fection, and  of  extending  her  sphere  of  action, 
she  feared,  would  be  all  frustrated  by  these  offers ; 
and  she  preferred  remaining  with  her  mother. 

She  now  often  visited  Madame  Von  la  Roche, 
and  she  was  also  present  when  it  was  mention- 
ed to  that  venerable  lady  that  Stilling  had  made 
fruitless  offers  of  marriage  there ;  Selma  testified 
her  repugnance  at  this  report,  and  was  surprised 
when  she  heard  that  Stilling  resided  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. The  idea  now  occurred  to  Madame 
Von  la  Roche,  that  Selma  would  be  suitable  for 
Stilling;  she  was  therefore  silent,  and  wrote  the 
first  letter  to  him,  to  which  he  immediately  re- 
plied. When  this  answer  was  received,  Selma 
was  at  Reichenberg;  Sophia  therefore  handed 

Sailing's  determination  to  advocate  P  's 

]ady,  the  mutual  friend  of  both.  The  latter  hast- 
ened directly  to  Reichenberg,  and  found  her 
friend,  in  the  morning,  still  in  bed;  her  eyes 
were  wet  with  tears,  for  it  was  her  birthday,  and 
she  had  been  praying  and  rendering  thanks  to 
God. 

The  advocate's  lady  presented  her  Stilling's 
letter,  together  with  an  epistle  from  Sophia,  in 
which  she  gave  her  maternal  advice.  Selma 
did  not  reject  this  opportunity,  but  permitted 
Stilling  to  come.    My  readers  know  the  rest. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Every  thing  being  at  length  duly  arranged, 
Stilling  set  off  for  Creutznach,  on  the  14th  of 
August,  1782,  in  order  to  be  married  to  his  Sel- 
ma. On  his  arrival  he  observed  the  first  mani- 
festation of  tenderness  in  her;  she  now  began  not 
merely  to  esteem  him,  but  she  also  really  loved 
him.  The  day  following,  being  the  16th,  the 
marriage  was  solemnized  in  her  aunt's  house, 
in  the  presence  of  a  few  friends,  by  the  Rev. 

Mr.  W  ,  inspector  of  the  district,  who  was  a 

friend  of  Stilling,  and  in  other  respects  an  excel- 
lent man.  The  address  which  he  gave  on  this 
occasion  is  inserted  in  the  printed  collection  of 
his  sermons ;  notwithstanding  which  it  is  also 
subjoined  here,  as  in  its  proper  place. 

It  is  verbatim  as  follows  : 

"  There  are  many  enjoyments  with  which 
Eternal  Wisdom  has  strewed  the  path  of  that 
man's  life  who  possesses  a  mind  and  feelings 
for  the  joys  of  virtue.   Now  if  we  weigh  all 


these  enjoyments  one  against  the  other,  and  let 
heart  and  soul  decide  which  of  them  deserve  the 
preference,  they  will  immediately  and  certainly 
pronounce  in  favor  of  those  in  which  the  sweet 
and  noble  social  feelings,  which  the  Creator  has 
implanted  in  our  souls  towards  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, find  satisfaction.  With  the  possession  of 
a  friend  to  whom  we  may  open  our  whole  heart, 
and  in  whose  bosom  we  can  deposit  our  most 
secret  cares,  as  in  an  inviolable  sanctuary — who 
participates  in  every  happy  event;  sympathises 
with  our  sorrows;  incites  us  by  his  example  to 
noble  and  virtuous  deeds;  by  kind  admonitions 
recalls  us  from  the  path  of  error  and  of  stum- 
bling; assists  us  in  prosperous  seasons  with 
sage  advice ;  and  wipes  away  our  tears  in  the 
season  of  suffering — without  such  a  friend,  what 
would  be  our  life'?  And  yet  the  enjoyment  of 
the  most  perfect  friendship  must  yield  to  that 
which  the  nuptial  union  with  a  virtuous  woman 
affords  to  a  virtuous  man. 

"  Since  I  am  to  have  the  happiness  this  day 
of  confirming  so  blissful  a  bond,  by  the  sacred 
seal  of  religion,  permit  me,  my  honoured  audi- 
tors, before  I  lay  my  hands  on  the  folded  hands 
of  my  most  worthy  friend  and  the  future  amia- 
ble partner  of  his  life,  to  detain  you  with  a  short 
description  of  the  pure  enjoyments  of  conjugal 
and  gentle  friendship,  which  is  sanctified  by  the 
religious  feelings  and  noble  love  of  virtue  of  the 
couple  who  are  thus  united. 

"Excellent,  and  rich  in  blissful  and  delightful 
feelings,  is  the  bond  which  the  pious  and  noble- 
minded  youth  establishes  with  the  lovely  com- 
panion of  his  blooming  years.  In  the  midst  of 
the  bustle  of  a  world,  which  meets  together  from 
childish  vanity,  and  separates  again  from  base 
self-interest,  the  feeling  youth  discovers  a  beau- 
teous soul,  which  invites  him,  by  the  irresistible 
attractions  of  a  noble  sympathy,  to  the  most  in- 
ward union,  and  sweetest  brotherly  love.  A 
like-disposed  heart,  full  of  uncorrupted  natural 
feeling;  a  like  inclination  for  what  is  beautiful, 
and  good,  and  noble,  and  great,  brings  them  to- 
gether; they  behold  each  other,  and  friendly 
confidence  glows  upon  their  countenances;  they 
converse  with  each  other,  and  their  thoughts  har- 
monize ;  their  hearts  open  to  each  other,  and  one 
soul  attracts  the  other;  they  already  know  each 
other,  and,  hand  in  hand,  vow  to  love  each  other 
eternally.  But  David  and  Jonathan  love  in  a 
world  in  which  connections,  which  must  be  holy 
and  venerable  to  us,  often  dissolve  the  sweetest 
bonds  of  friendship ;  often  occasion  joylessness, 
or  even  painful  feelings.  Jonathan  has  estab- 
lished the  bond  of  sacred  friendship  with  the  art- 
less son  of  Jesse,  and  the  youth  is  then  more  to 
him  than  a  brother;  for  he  had  loved  him,  as  the 
sacred  historian  says,  as  his  own  soul.  Happy 
Jonathan  !— couldst  thou  but  impart  to  thy  king 
and  father  only  a  small  part  of  thy  tender  esti- 
mation for  the  favourite  of  thy  heart!  But  noj 
the  wrath  of  Saul  persecuted  the  innocent  Da- 
vid ;  and  the  gentle  and  virtuous  heart  of  the 
son  and  friend  strives  in  vain  to  combine  the  sa- 
cred duties  of  filial  love  with  the  duties  of  the- 
most  faithful  and  tender  friendship.  Who  can. 
read  the  history  of  the  two  noble-minded  youths, 
and  see  them  embrace  and  weep  over  each  oth- 
er, at  the  stone  Asel,  in  the  bitter  parting  hour, 
and  not  shed  tears  with  them  ? — and  how  often 
is  this  the  lot  of  the  most  dignified  and  magnan- 
imous souls !  Although  the  bond  of  their  friend- 
ship may  be  founded  upon  the  purest  and  most 
virtuous  inclinations,  they  cannot  remove  tha 


118  HEINRICH 

severe  restraint  of  connections  which  are  sacred 
to  every  good  and  upright  human  soul.  The 
command  of  a  father;  conflicting  family  views; 
nay,  sometimes,  the  same  wishes,  which,  though 
just  on  the  part  of  every  one,  can  only  be  fulfill- 
ed with  respect  to  one,  often  divide,  in  this  world 
of  imperfection,  the  most  tender  friendly  allian- 
ces, or  rend  the  heart,  in  order  to  avoid  an  anx- 
ious separation. 

"  Not  so  with  the  friendship  which  is  estab- 
lished between  noble  souls,  by  the  holy  and  in- 
violable bond  of  matrimony  ;  its  genial  enjoy- 
ments are  not  subjected  to  such  assaults.  Death 
alone  can  dissolve  the  bond  which  the  flame  of 
the  tenderest  love  has  established,  and  which 
solemn  vows  at  the  holy  altar  of  religion  have 
sealed.  The  circumstances  and  intentions,  the 
wishes  and  efforts,  of  the  lover  and  the  beloved 
are  one  and  the  same :  the  relationship  of  the 
husband  is  the  relationship  of  the  wife  ;  his  hon- 
or her  honor;  his  property  her  property. 

"  The  guileless  heart  of  the  pious  and  selected 
spouse,  full  of  tender  and  noble  emotions,  finds 
in  the  man  that  loves  God  and  virtue  a  safe- 
guard on  the  journey  of  life;  a  faithful  adviser 
in  perplexing  circumstances;  a  courageous  de- 
fender in  dangers;  a  magnanimous  friend,  who 
continues  faithful  even  unto  death.  What  he 
accomplishes  for  the  good  of  the  world,  of  his 
country,  and  his  family,  has  all  a  beneficial  ef- 
fect upon  the  happiness  and  the  joy  of  the  wom- 
an to  whom  he  has  presented  his  hand  and  his 
heart.  Wearied  with  the  labours  of  the  day,  he 
hastens  to  the  sweet  companion  of  his  life  ;  im- 
arts  to  her  the  experience  and  knowledge  he 
as  collected ;  seeks  to  develope  every  shooting 
blossom  of  her  mind,  and  prevent  every  timid 
wish  of  her  affectionate  heart;  willingly  forgets 
the  gnawing  cares  of  his  vocation,  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  world,  and  the  bitter  hindrances 
which  every  honest  man  meets  with  in  the  path 
of  incorruptible  integrity,  in  order  to  live  entire- 
ly for  her  happiness;  to  give  himself  wholly  to 
her,  who,  for  his  sake,  has  left  father  and  moth- 
er, and  friends,  and  companions;  and  who, 
adorned  with  every  flower,  has  cast  herself  into 
the  arms  of  a  single  individual,  who  is  all  to  her 
heart.  How  could  he  be  faithless  to  her,  even 
in  idea — the  man  that  feels  the  greatness  of  the 
offering  she  has  presented  to  him,  and  who 
knows  and  believes  that  there  is  a  revvarder  in 
heaven?  And  what  a  valuable  treasure  he  has 
found  in  her,  who  loves  God  and  virtue !  Her 
gentle,  heart-constraining  society  sweetens  ev- 
ery hour  of  his  life;  her  tender  sympathy  in  his 
fate  alleviates  his  every  pain,  and  gives  him 
doubly  to  feel  each  enjoyment  of  life ;  her  kind 
discourse  translates  him  often  into  the  blissful 
feelings  of  a  better  world,  when  his  eye,  troubled 
by  the  miseries  of  this  earthly  state,  needs  the 
most  to  be  directed  upwards.  Gladly  does  she 
renounce  the  deceitful  glitter  of  transient  amuse- 
ments, in  order,  unembittered,  to  enjoy  quiet,  do- 
mestic happiness — the  only  happiness  which  is 
worthy  of  being  sought  and  found  by  noble 
souls;  and  knows  no  joy  of  which  he  does  not 
partake  who  is  the  choice  of  her  heart.  To 
please  him;  to  take  charge  of  the  affairs  of  his 
house ;  by  good  example  and  love  of  order,  and 
by  meekness  and  kindness  to  maintain  that  do- 
minion of  love  over  children,  and  inmates  and 
domestics,  which  is  the  most  difficult  duty  and 
the  noblest  embellishment  of  her  sex  ;  to  season 
her  husbands  hours  of  recreation  with  pleasure; 
by  harmless  mirth  to  cheer  his  brow,  when  man- 


STILLING. 

ly  sternness  rests  upon  it;  or  by  gentle  words  t« 
soothe  his  cares,  when  adverse  results  of  well 
meant  intentions  disturb  him — this  is  the  endeav- 
or of  the  day,  and  this  the  nightly  meditation  of 
the  spouse  who  loves  God  and  virtue. 

"  Such  a  wife  is  the  most  valuable  gift  of  heav- 
en ;  such  a  husband,  the  blest  blessing  where- 
with Eternal  Love  rewards  a  pious  and  faithful 
heart.  If  He  who  dwells  in  heaven  blesses  such 
a  marriage  with  a  progeny,  what  ravishing  pros- 
pects, what  pure  delight,  what  felicity  on  earth, 
to  see  themselves  live  anew  in  well-disposed, 
beloved  children;  to  bring  up  useful  citizens  of 
earth,  and  blessed  inhabitants  of  heaven;  to  see 
a  powerful  support  growing  up  for  helpless  old 
age;  a  sensible  comfort  in  their  infirmities!  O 
God  !  what  a  rich  recompense  for  all  the  toil, 
and  labour,  and  care,  which  we  expend  on  edu- 
cation and  attention  to  the  inheritors  of  our 
names  and  property ;  and  when,  as  we  may  hope, 
our  wishes  are  fulfilled,  of  our  virtues  also ! 
What  a  goodly  lot,  to  be  permitted  to  hear  the 
sweet  names  of  father  and  mother! 

"All  happiness  to  you,  my  estimable  friend, 
who  to-day  enjoy  the  felicity  of  being  eternally 
united  with  such  a  consort!  I  know  her  noble- 
minded  and  pious  heart,  which  is  open  to  and 
warm  for  every  friendly  feeling.  I  do  not  need 
to  place  before  your  eyes  the  duties  which  such, 
a  union  imposes  upon  you;  you  have  practised 
them;  you  have  thereby  become  happy;  you 
will  become  so  again;  and  if  the  spirits  of  the 
blessed  learn  the  fate  of  their  mortal  friends,  and 
participate  in  it,  the  departed  saint  that  is  in 
heaven  will  look  down  with  pure  and  indescri- 
bable joy  on  this  new  union,  upon  which  you 
this  day  enter  with  the  chosen  one  of  your  heart. 

"Happiness  and  the  blessing  of  God  be  upon 
you,  amiable  and  virgin  bride !  The  friend  of 
your  heart  is  the  husband  of  your  choice,  and 
worthy  of  your  whole  esteem  and  of  your  ten- 
derest affection.  You  may  boldly  cast  yourself 
into  his  outstretched  arms;  expect,  without  ap- 
prehension, from  him,  what  the  most  perfect 
friendship,  nuptial  love,  and  inviolable  fidelity 
can  give.  He  that  fears  God,  fulfils  vows,  and 
keeps  covenant  even  unto  death ;  to  him  that  has 
passed  through  rough  and  solitary  paths,  warm 
and  heart-felt  friendship  is  like  a  cordial  to  the 
wanderer,  who,  after  roaming  through  barren 
deserts,  finds  a  shady  spring ;  he  approaches  it 
with  the  most  fervent  gratitude,  and  every  drop 
of  water  which  pours  refreshment  into  his  lan- 
guishing heart  is  sacred  to  him. 

"O  God,  thou  hearest  our  prayer;  do  thou 
bless  those  whom  thy  hand  has  joined  together, 
and  bless  them  with  all  the  felicity  of  a  pure 
love,  which  death  cannot  destroy !    Amen  !" 

Hereupon  followed  the  priestly  benediction : 
Stilling's  and  Selma's  hearts  and  hands  were 
inseparably  united,  and  the  Almighty  gave  his 
gracious  blessing  to  this  union.  Mr.  Schmerz 
took  much  interest  in  this  joyful  event;  he  pro- 
vided the  marriage-feast,  and  entertained  the 
newly-married  couple,  with  their  friends  who 
were  present,  both  to  dinner  and  supper. 

Schmerz  also  wished  to  celebrate  the  day  fol- 
lowing by  an  excursion  into  the  Rheingau;  two 
coaches  were  therefore  ordered,  in  one  of  which 
Madame  Schmerz,  the  aunt,  and  Selma,  rode, 

and  in  the  other,  Mr.  Schmerz,  Mr.  W  ,  the 

Inspector,  and  Stilling.  The  way  led  from 
Creutznach  to  Bingen,  from  whence  they  cross- 
ed the  Rhine,  thence  to  Geisenheim,  to  view  the 
baronial  residence  of  Ostein ;  and  from  thence 


Si 


STIL  LINGS  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


119 


over  against  Bingen  to  Niederwaid,  which  also 
belongs  to  the  Count  of  Ostein,  and  is  laid  out 
in  the  manner  of  an  English  park.  The  whole 
journey  was  enchanting;  objects  every  where 
presented  themselves  which  afforded  peculiar 
food  for  the  eye  of  a  mind  susceptible  of  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  of  art ;  the  whole  com- 
pany was  consequently  extremely  well  pleased. 

They  dined  in  the  midst  of  the  Niederwald,  at 
a  forester's  house;  and  after  dinner,  the  after- 
noon was  spent  in  walking,  while  the  various 
beautiful  scenes,  prospects,  and  objects,  refresh- 
ed the  eye  and  the  heart.  Towards  five  o'clock, 
they  commenced  their  return  ;  the  coaches  with 
the  ladies  drove  down  the  hill,  and  the  gentle- 
men went  on  foot.  The  latter  now  resolved  to 
stop  at  Rüdesheim,  and  drink  another  bottle  of 
the  excellent  wine  ofthat  place,  to  cement  their 
friendship ;  meanwhile,  the  ladies  were  to  cross 
the  river  at  the  ferry,  and  wait  at  Bingen  till 
they  should  follow  them  in  a  boat.  This  was 
accordingly  done ;  but  meanwhile  a  storm  arose, 
the  waves  were  high,  and  it  already  began  to  be 
dark,  particularly  as  the  sky  was  covered  with 
black  clouds.  They  took  their  seats  in  the  boat, 
notwithstanding,  and  passed  over  the  rushing 
waves,  in  the  midst  of  the  roaring  of  the  storm; 
and  with  much  danger  and  anxiety  arrived  safely 
at  the  other  side. 

All  three  now  stood  on  the  shore  at  Bingen  to 
receive  their  beloved  friends,  who  were  how- 
ever still  waiting  with  their  coach  on  the  oppo- 
site shore.  At  length  they  drove  into  the  ferry, 
and  the  ferry-boat  pushed  off.  But  what  were 
their  feelings,  when  the  ferry-boat,  instead  of 
coming  across,  went  down  the  river  !  The 
stream  raged,  and  scarcely  half-a-quarter  of  a 
league  further  down,  the  waters  roared  in  the 
Bingen-loch  like  distant  thunder;  the  ferry-boat 
was  drifting  towards  this  dangerous  place;  and 
all  this  when  it  was  growing  dark.  Schmerz, 
W — ,  and  Stilling  stood  there,  as  if  lamed  hand 
and  foot ;  they  looked  like  poor  criminals  that 
had  just  received  their  sentence  ;  all  Bingen  ran 
together — all  was  in  an  uproar — and  some  sail- 
ors put  off  in  a  large  boat  after  the  unfortunate 
people. 

Meanwhile,  the  ferry-boat  with  the  coach  con- 
tinued to  drift  further  down;  the  boat  followed 
them,  and  at  length  neither  of  them  could  be 
«een  ;  besides  al 
more  dismaying, 
•  Stilling  stood  as  before  the  judgment-seat  of 
the  Almighty;  he  could  neither  pray,  nor  think; 
his  eyes  gazed'  fixedly  between  the  lofty  mount- 
ains towards  the  Bingen-loch  ;  he  felt  as  though 
he  stood  up  to  the  neck  in  burning  sand;  his 
Selma,  that  excellent  gift  of  God,  was  lost  to 
him ;  the  horrible  cry  of  the  crowd  resounded  in 
his  deafened  ears  on  all  sides,  "  The  poor  people 
are  lost !  God  be  gracious  to  them  !"  O  !  what 
intense  misery !  and  this  lasted  two  hours. 

At  length,  a  young  man,  a  clergyman,  of  the 
name  of  Gentli,  pressed  through  the  people  to 
the  three  men.  He  placed  himself  with  a  cheer- 
ing expression  of  countenance  before  them, 
pressed  their  hands,  and  said,  "Be  satisfied,  dear 
sirs  !  be  not  apprehensive ;  people  are  not  so 
easily  lost.    Be  not  disturbed  by  the  foolish  talk  J 
of  the  mob;  most  probably,  the  ladies  are  al-  j 
ready  over.    Come,  we  will  go  along  the  shore 
on  this  side;  I  will  show  you  the  way  !"    This  | 
was  like  a  cool  dew  on  their  burning  hearts ;  j 
they  followed  his  advice,  and  he  conducted  them  j 
by  the  arm  down  the  meadow,  and  all  his  words  I 
were  words  of  comfort  and  peace. 


As  they  were  walking  towards  the  Mouse 
tower,  having  their  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  the 
stream,  they  heard  opposite  them,  on  the  left 
hand,  a  rattling  and  rushing,  as  if  a  coach  were 
driving,  between  the  hedges;  all  four  looked 
thither,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see  any  thing. 
Stilling  therefore  called  aloud,  and  Selma  an- 
swered, "  We  are  safe  !" 

Klopstock's  "  Come  hither,  Abaddona,  to  thy 
Redeemer  !"  and  these  words,  "  We  are  safe  !" 
produced  one  and  the  same  effect.  Schmerz, 
W — ,  and  Stiiling  fell  upon  the  neck  of  the 
good  Catholic  priest,  just  as  if  he  himself  had 
been  their  deliverer,  and  he  rejoiced  with  them 
as  a  brother.  O  thou  messenger  of  peace,  thou 
real  evangelist,  eternal  blessings  be  upon  thee  1 

All  three  now  ran  to  the  coach  ;  Stilling  out- 
stripped them,  and  met  on  the  way  his  Selma, 
who  went  before  the  others  on  foot.  He  was 
astonished  to  find  her  quite  composed,  undis- 
turbed, and  without  any  sign  of  having  suffered 
from  fear;  he  could  not  comprehend  this,  and 
asked  her  respecting  this  singular  phenomenon  ; 
she  replied,  with  a  tender  and  smiling  counte- 
nance, "  /  thought,  God  does  all  things  well ;  if  it 
were  his  will  to  tear  me  from  you  again,  He  must 
have  a  good  object  in  view:  therefore  his  will  be 
done!" 

They  now  again  betook  themselves  to  their 
carriages,  and  drove  quietly,  and  safely,  in  the 
night-time,  to  Cruetznach. 

The  cause  of  all  this  terror  and  grief  was 
merely  the  drunkenness  of  the  ferry  people,  who 
were  so  intoxicated  that  they  were  unable  to 
stand,  much  less  guide  the  ferry-boat.  The  sail- 
ors, who  were  sent  off  with  the  boat,  were  the 
sole  cause  of  their  deliverance  ;  they  found  the 
ferry  close  by  the  Bingen-loch,  fastened  their 
boat  to  it,  and  with  dreadful  toil  and  labour  row- 
ed it  across  above  the  rocks  and  the  Mouse  tow- 
er. As  a  punishment,  the  ferry-men  were  dis- 
placed, and  imprisoned  on  bread  and  water;  all 
which  they  well  deserved. 

It  is  the  plan  of  Providence,  in  all  its  dealings, 
by  which  it  leads  him  who  lets  himself  be  led  by 
it  to  the  great  and  glorious  aim,  that  when  be- 
stowing some  great  felicity  upon  him,  if  he 
cleave  passionately  to  it,  it  threatens  in  a  pow- 
erful manner  to  take  it  from  him  again,  solely 
in  order  entirely  to  mortify  this  sensual  attach- 
ment, which  is  so  extremely  opposed  to  all  moral 
perfection  and  to  activity  for  the  good  of  mankind. 
It  is  true  what  the  mystics  say  in  this  case,  that 
"  God  seeks  an  undivided  heart;  it  may  love  and 
value  the  gift,  but  on  no  account  more  highly  than 
the  Giver."  Stilling  has  always  found  it  thus; 
as  every  attentive  reader,  who  is  experienced  in 
the  ways  of  God,,  will  easily  perceive. 

A  few  days  after,  Stilling,  with  his  Selma,  ac- 
companied by  her  aunt,  set  out  for  Rittersburg. 
They  were  met  half-way  by  the  students  of  that 
place,  who  testified  their  joy  and  the  interest 
they  took,  by  presenting  a  poem,  and  by  music, 
and  a  ball. 

Thus  began  a  new  period  of  his  domestic  life. 
Selma  sent  immediately  for  the  two  children 
from  Zweibrücken,  and  with  extreme  care  un- 
dertook their  much-neglected  education.  At  the 
same  time,  she  represented  to  Stilling  the  neces- 
sity of  her  having  possession  of  the  cash ;  for 
she  said,  "  My  dear  husband,  your  whole  soul 
is  engaged  in  its  important  vocation,  in  its  high, 
destiny ;  domestic  arrangements,  and  domes- 
tic cares  and  expenses,  whether  great  or  small, 
are  beneath  vour  attention ;  pursue  your  course 


120  HEINRICH 

without  interruption,  and  henceforth  leave  to  me 
income  and  expenditure.  Commit  both  debts 
and  housekeeping  to  my  management,  and  let 
me  provide ;  you  will  find  your  account  in  so 
doing."  Stilling  most  joyfully  assented,  and 
soon  saw  the  happy  result;  his  children,  his 
furniture,  his  table,  were  all  becomingly  and 
agreeably  attended  to,  so  that  every  one  was 
gratified.  Every  friend  was  welcome  to  his  ta- 
ble, but  never  sumptuously  treated ;  his  house 
was  the  refuge  of  the  worthiest  young  men ; 
many  a  one  was  thus  preserved  from  ruin,  and 
others  reclaimed  from  going  astray  ;  but  all  this 
was  managed  with  such  decorum  and  dignity, 
that  even  the  most  poisonous-tongued  calumni- 
ator did  not  venture  to  spread  any  unbecoming 
report. 

With  all  this,  the  money  was  never  entirely 
expended ;  there  was  always  something  in  hand, 
and  comparatively,  even  superfluity.  Selma  also 
formed  a  plan  for  liquidating  the  debts,  the  in- 
terest upon  which  was  to  be  regularly  paid,  and 
the  Rittersburg  debts  discharged  first.  This  lat- 
ter was  accomplished  in  less  than  three  years, 
and  money  was  then  sent  to  Schönenthal,  by 
which  the  creditors  were  rendered  more  tranquil ; 
in  a  word,  Sailing's  tedious  and  painful  suffer- 
ings had  an  end. 

And  if,  occasionally,  tormenting  letters  still 
arrived,  Selma  answered  them  herself,  and  that 
in  such  a  manner  as  must  necessarily  have  im- 
parted confidence  and  satisfaction  to  every  one 
who  was  in  any  degree  rational. 

However,  circumstances  gradually  occurred 
which  greatly  limited  Sailing's  sphere  of  action. 
His  activity  and  the  number  of  his  writings  cre- 
ated envy ;  there  were  those  who  sought,  as 
much  as  possible,  to  envelope  him  in  obscurity, 
and  to  place  him  in  a  wrong  light;  he  did  much 
for  the  general  good,  but  it  was  not  observed ; 
on  the  contrary,  his  course  was  not  always 
deemed  right ;  and  when  the  court  or  other  po- 
litical bodies  were  desirous  of  bestowing  a  rec- 
ompense upon  him,  it  was  prevented.  Add  to 
this,  Stilling  wished  to  be  able  to  complete  and 
teach  his  whole  system ;  but  this  was  impossible 
in  the  existing  order  of  things,  for  his  colleagues 

Earticipated  in  the  system  of  tuition.  Finally, 
is  income  was  too  small  to  enable  him  to 
make  provision  for  his  family  ;  and  this  had  be- 
come the  chief  object  of  his  attention,  since  his 
debts  no  longer  oppressed  him.  All  this  excited 
in  him  the  determination  to  accept  a  more  ad- 
vantageous vocation,  as  soon  as  Providence 
should  put  it  in  his  power.  However,  he  was 
inwardly  cheerful  and  happy ;  for  all  this  was 
not  suffering,  but  merely  a  limiting  of  circum- 
stances. 

At  length,  in  the  year  1784,  the  Elector  re- 
solved to  remove  the  academy  of  Political  Econ- 
omy from  Ri:tcrsberg  to  Heidelberg,  and  unite 
it  with  the  ancient  university  there.  Sailing's 
situation  was  thereby  improved,  inasmuch  as 
his  sphere  of  operation  was  more  extensive, 
and  his  income  in  some  measure  increased ;  but 
there  was  still  no  possibility  of  making  provis- 
ion for  his  family,  and  envy  now  became  still 
stronger.  He  found  indeed  many  powerful 
friends  there;  and  he  gained  the  affections  of 
the  public  because  he  continued  gratuitously  to 
practise  as  an  oculist,  with  much  success. 
However,  he  was  obliged  to  submit  to  much 
that  was  painful  and  vexatious.  What  con- 
soled him  the  most,  was  the  universal  love  of 
the  whole  university  and  its  officers  of  all  the 


STILLING 

students,  and  the  town  ;  besides  which,  his  fidel- 
ity and  diligence,  notwithstanding  every  obsta- 
cle, penetrated  at  length  to  the  ears  of  the  Elec- 
tor, who,  without  his  knowledge,  and  entirely 
gratuitously,  sent  him  the  patent  of  Electoral 
Aulic  Counsellor,  and  assured  him  of  his  favor. 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Friedenberg  died  of  wa- 
ter on  the  chest.  Selma  had  previously  con- 
vinced him,  by  a  very  affecting  letter,  of  Sail- 
ing's integrity,  and  of  the  certain  payment  of 
his  debts,  and  thus  he  died  in  peace,  and  as  a 
Christian;  for  this  he  was,  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word.    Peace  be  with  his  ashes  ! 

Stilling  was  also  accepted  as  a  regular  mem- 
ber of  the  German  Society  in  Manheim  ;  in  con- 
sequence of  which  he  travelled  thither  once  ev- 
ery fortnight,  with  his  friend  Counsellor  Mieg. 
These  excursions  were  always  a  very  pleasing- 
recreation,  and  he  felt  happy  in  the  circle  of  so 
many  estimable  men.  His  acquaintance  with 
excellent  characters  also  became  more  exten- 
sive and  useful.  To  this,  another  circumstance 
greatly  contributed. 

In  the  year  1786,  the  University  of  Heidelberg 
celebrated  the  jubilee  of  its  fourth  centenary, 
with  great  pomp,  and  amidst  the  concourse  of  a 
great  multitude  of  people  from  far  and  near. 
The  solemn  jubilee  address  in  the  name  and  on 
the  part  of  the  Academy  of  Civil  and  Political 
Economy,  was  committed  to  Stilling;  he  there- 
fore prepared  it  considerately  and  calmly,  and 
experienced  an  effect  of  which  there  are  few  par- 
allel instances,  but  to  which  circumstances  con- 
tributed not  a  little,  and,  perhaps,  the  chief  part. 
All  the  other  addresses  were  given  in  the  great 
hall  of  the  university,  in  Latin ;  besides  which, 
it  was  bitterly  cold,"  and  all  the  auditory  were 
weary  of  the  endless  Latin  speeches,  and  taking 
degrees.  When  it  came  to  Sailing's  turn,  the 
whole  auditory  were  conducted  into  the  hall  of 
the  statistical  academy,  which  was  a  beautiful 
one,  and  as  it  was  evening,  was  lighted  up  and 
warmed.  Stilling  stepped  forth,  and  made  an 
oration  in  German,  with  his  wonted  cheerful- 
ness. The  result  was  unexpected;  tears  began 
to  flow — a  whisper  ran  through  the  assembly — 
and  at  length  they  began  to  clap,  and  exclaim,, 
"  Bravo  !"  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  cease  until 
the  noise  was  over.  This  was  repeated  several 
times ;  and  when  he  descended  from  the  rostrum, 
the  representative  of  the  Elector,  the  Minister 
Von  Oberndorf,  thanked  him  very  expressively ; 
after  which  the  grandees  of  the  Palatinate,  in 
their  stars  and  orders,  approached  to  embrace 
and  salute  him,  which  was  also  subsequently 
done  by  the  principal  deputies  of  the  imperial 
cities  and  universities.  It  may  easily  be  con- 
ceived what  Stilling  felt  on  this  occasion.  God 
was  with  him,  and  granted  him  a  drop  of  well- 
earned,  honorable  enjoyment,  which  had  been  so 
long  unreasonably  withheld  from  him.  How- 
ever, he  was  fully  conscious  in  all  this,  how 
little  he  had  contributed  towards  deserving  this 
honor.  His  talent  was  the  gift  of  God;  that  he 
had  been  enabled  duly  to  cultivate  it,  was  the 
consequence  of  Divine  providence;  and  that  the 
present  effect  was  so  astonishing,  was  chiefly 
the  result  of  circumstances.  To  God  alone  be  tlie 
glory ! 

From  this  time,  Stilling  enjoyed  the  love  and 
esteem  of  all  the  higher  ranks  of  the  Palatinate 
in  an  abundant  measure ;  and  it  was  just  at  this 
time  also,  that  Providence  beefan  to  prepare  the 
station  for  him  for  which  it  had  intended,  during 
the  last  fourteen  years,  by  tedious  and  painful 
sufferings,  to  lead  and  form  him. 


STILLING'S  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 


121 


The  Landgrave  of  Hesse-Cassel,  from  the 
time  he  first  assumed  the  reins  of  government, 
had  taken  the  beneficent  resolution  of  placing 
the  University  of  Marburg  in  a  better  condition; 
and  to  this  end  had  removed  thither  those  cele- 
brated men,  Von  Selchow,  Baldinger,  and  oth- 
ers. He  now  also  wished  to  see  the  Economi- 
cal department  filled,  and  for  this  purpose  sev- 
eral learned  men  were  proposed  to  him ;  but  cir- 
cumstances stood  in  the  way,  which  hindered 
their  coming.  At  length,  in  the  year  1786,  the 
late  Mr.  Leske  of  Leipsic  received  the  appoint- 
ment, and  he  proceeded  thither,  but  suffered  a 
dangerous  fall  on  the  journey,  so  that  he  died  a 
week  after  his  arrival  in  Marburg.  Now,  though 
Stilling  had  been  often  spoken  of,  yet  persons  of 
consequence  opposed  his  appointment;  because 
they  believed  a  man  who  had  written  so  many 
novels  was  scarcely  suitable  for  such  a  station. 
But  no  man  can  withstand  the  plan  of  Provi- 
dence. Stilling,  in  consequence  of  a  rescript 
from  the  Landgrave,  was  formally  and  regular- 
ly appointed  by  the  University  of  Marburg,  pub-' 
lie  and  ordinary  Professor  of  the  Economical. 
Financial,  and  Statistical  sciences,  with  a  fixed 
income  of  1200  dollars  sterling,  or  2130  guilders 
current  money,  and  a  respectable  provision  for 
his  wife  in  case  of  his  death. 

Thanks,  ardent  and  heartfelt  thanks  to  Will- 
iam the  Ninth,  the  prince  of  the  noble  and  wor- 
thy Hessians.  He  recognized  Stilling's  honest 
intentions  and  his  impulse  to  be  useful,  and  this 
was  the  cause  of  his  being  appointed.  This  he 
afterwards  testified  to  him,  when  he  was  favor- 
ed with  an  audience;  he  was  requested  to  relate 
his  history,  with  which  the  Landgrave  was  affect- 
ed and  pleased.  He  himself  thanked  God  for 
having  made  use  of  him,  as  an  instrument,  to 
lay  the  foundation  of  Stilling's  good  fortune ; 
and  promised,  at  the  same  time,  constantly  to 
support  him,  and  to  manifest  paternal  fidelity  to 
him  and  his  family. 

Stilling  accepted  this  appointment  with  the 
most  heartfelt  thankfulness  to  his  wise  and  heav- 
enly Guide,  and  now  saw  all  his  wishes  fulfill- 
ed ;  for  he  could  now  fill  up  and  teach  his  whole 
system,  and  in  his  domestic  affairs  and  manner 
of  life,  could  also  lay  up  something  for  his  chil- 
dren, and  consequently  make  them  happy.  At 
that  time  he  had  only  three  children;  the  daugh- 
ter and  son  by  the  first  marriage  were  growing 
up :  the  daughter  he  sent  for  a  year  to  the  rela- 
tives of  her  late  mother;  but  the  son  was  boarded 
with  a  very  worthy  preacher,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Heilbronn.  Selma  had  had  three  chil- 
dren, but  an  infant  son  and  daughter  had  already 
died  in  Heidelberg;  the  youngest  child,  a  girl  of 
a  year  old,  he  therefore  took  with  him  to  Marburg. 

He  set  out  for  this  his  place  of  destination,  at 
Easter,  1787,  with  his  wife  and  child.  At  Frank- 
fort, he  again  visited  his  old  and  faithful  friend 
Kraft,  who  heartily  rejoiced  at  the  admirable  re- 
sult of  his  painful  trials,  and  thanked  God  with 
him. 

At  Marburg  he  was  received  in  a  very  cordial 
and  friendly  manner  by  all  the  members  of  the 
university ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  enter- 
ing his  native  land,  and  coming  amongst  his 
friends  and  acquaintances.  Even  those  who  had 
labored  against  him  became  his  best  friends,  as 
soon  as  they  learned  to  know  him,  for  their  in- 
tentions were  pure  and  good. 

After  having  courageously  entered  upon  his 
office,  confiding  in  the  Divine  assistance,  and 
duly  established  himself,  his  heart  impelled  him 

a 


to  see  once  more  his  aged  father,  Wilhelm  Still- 
ing. The  journey  was  not  a  great  or  difficult 
one  for  the  venerable  old  man,  for  Stilling's  na- 
tive province  and  birth-place  is  only  a  few  miles 
from  Marburg;  he  wrote  to  him,  therefore,  and 
invited  him  to  come  to  him,  because  he  himself 
had  not  time  to  undertake  the  journey.  The 
good  old  man  consented  with  joy;  and  Stilling, 
therefore,  made  preparations  for  fetching  him. 
with  a  horse,  all  which  was  provided  by  the  son 
of  Johann  Stilling,  the  mine-surveyor  of  Dillen- 
burg. 

He  would  gladly  also  have  seen  his  uncle  Jo- 
hann Stilling.  But  the  great  Father  of  men  had 
called  him  away  a  year  before  from  his  daily 
labor,  and  removed  him  to  a  more  extensive 
sphere  of  action.  In  his  latter  years,  he  had  be- 
come surveyor-in-chief  of  the  mines,  and  had 
contributed  much  to  the  prosperity  of  his  coun- 
try. His  whole  life  was  an  unceasing  activity 
for  the  good  of  mankind,  and  an  ardent  striving 
after  the  discovery  of  new  truths.  His  influence 
on  the  life,  manners,  and  conduct  of  his  neigh- 
bours was  so  great  and  so  powerful,  that  his 
whole  outward  manner  of  life  and  conduct  is  di- 
vided amongst  the  peasants  of  his  village ;  the 
one  laughs  like  him,  the  other  has  assumed  his 
gait,  a  third  his  favorite  expressions,  &c.  His 
spirit  remains  distributed  amongst  his  friends, 
and  renders  him  immortal,  even  with  respect  to 
this  world ;  his  memory  also,  as  a  servant  of  the 
state,  is  blessed;  for  his  establishments  and  in- 
stitutions will  afford  food  and  refreshment  to  the 
poor  in  after-times,  when  Johann  Stilling's  bones 
are  become  dust.  Rest  sweetly,  thou  worthy  son. 
of  Eberhard  Stilling !  thou  hast  done  honor  to 
him,  the  pious  patriarch;  and  now,  in  his  exal- 
tation, he  will  rejoice  over  his  son,  conduct  him 
before  the  Redeemer's  throne,  and  render  thanks 
unto  Him. 

In  the  summer  of  the  year  1787,  on  a  fine  clear 
afternoon,  as  Stilling  was  upon  the  rostrum,  and 
lecturing  on  Technology,  some  of  the  young  gen- 
tlemen who  were  studying  there  all  at  once  en- 
tered the  lecture-room.  One  of  them  exclaimed 
aloud,  "Your  father  is  come;  all  is  now  at  an, 
end  here !"  Stilling  was  mute ;  a  variety  of  feel- 
ings assailed  his  heart ;  he  tottered  down  the 
steps,  accompanied  by  his  whole  auditory. 

At  the  house-door  below,  Selma  had  welcom- 
ed her  good  father-in-law  with  tears ;  had  led 
him  and  his  attendant,  the  mine-surveyor,  into 
the  parlour,  and  was  gone  to  fetch  her  child ;  du- 
ring which  time  Stilling  entered  with  his  reti- 
nue. Immediately  opposite  the  door  stood  the 
mine-surveyor,  and  at  the  side,  to  the  left,  Wil- 
helm Stilling;  he  held  his  hat  in  his  hand;  stood 
bent  with  age ;  and  in  his  venerable  visage,  time, 
and  a  variety  of  afflictions,  had  graven  many 
and  deep  furrows.  Timid,  and  with  a  very  pe- 
culiar shamefacedness,  which  leaves  no  one  un- 
affected, he  looked  askant  in  the  face  of  his  son 
as  he  approached.  The  latter  stept  up  to  him 
with  the  most  heartfelt  emotion ;  behind  him 
stood  his  numerous  auditory,  and  every  one  smi- 
led with  extreme  and  sympathetic  satisfaction. 
Father  and  son  first  of  all  boked  fixedly  at  each 
other  for  some  moments,  and  then  fell  into  each 
other's  embrace,  with  a  mixture  of  sobbing  and 
weeping.  After  this,  they  stood  again  and  look- 
ed at  each  other. 

Stilling. — "  Father,  you  have  aged  very  much 
in  the  last  thirteen  years." 

Wilhelm. — "  So  have  you  also,  my  son." 

Stilling. — "  Not  '  you,'  my  venerable  father  I 


122  HEINRICH 

but  thou!  I  am  your  son,  and  am  proud  of  being 
so.  Your  prayers,  and  your  mode  of  educating 
me,  have  made  me  the  man  I  am  now  become ; 
without  you,  this  would  not  have  been  the  case." 

Wilhelm— "  Well,  well,  let  it  be  so.  God  has 
done  it.    His  name  be  praised  !" 

Stilling. — "  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  stand- 
ing before  my  grandfather ;  you  are  become  very 
like  him,  dear  father!" 

Wilhelm. — "  Like  in  body  and  soul.  I  feel  the 
inward  peace  which  he  possessed ;  and  as  he  act- 
ed, I  seek  also  to  act." 

Stilling. — "  Ah,  how  hard  and  stiff  your  hands 
are !  does  it  then  go  hard  with  you  V 

He  smiled  like  lather  Stilling,  and  said,  "  I  am 
a  peasant,  and  born  to  labor;  that  is  my  voca- 
tion ;  do  not  let  that  trouble  thee,  my  son  !  it  is 
difficult  for  me  to  earn  my  bread,  but  yet  I  have 
no  want." 

He  now  cordially  welcomed  the  mine-survey- 
or, on  which  Sclma  entered  with  her  little  daugh- 
ter; the  old  man  took  it  by  the  hand,  and  said, 
with  emotion,  "  The  Almighty  bless  thee,  my 
child!"  Selma  sat  down,  contemplated  the  old 
man,  and  shed  gentle  tears. 

The  assembly  now  broke  up ;  the  students  took 
their  leave;  and  the  Marburg  friends  began  to 
visit  Selling's  father.  As  much  honor  was  done 
him  as  if  he  had  been  a  person  of  rank.  God 
will  reward  them  for  their  noble-mindedness;  it 
is  worthy  of  their  hearts. 

Wilhelm  resided  for  some  days  with  his  son, 
and  frequently  said,  "This  season  has  been  a 
foretaste  of  heaven  to  me."  Pleased  and  much 
affected,  he  then  returned  with  his  attendant. 

Stilling,  therefore,  now  lives  in  Marburg,  per- 
fectly happy  and  useful.  His  marriage-state  is 
daily  a  source  of  the  most  sublime  delight  that 
can  be  conceived  on  earth;  for  Selma  loves  him 
with  her  whole  soul,  above  every  thing  in  the 
world  ;  her  whole  heart  incessantly  inclines  to- 
wards him  ;  and  as  his  many  and  long-continued 
sufferings  have  made  -him  timid,  so  that  he  is  al- 
ways apprehensive  of  something  without  know- 
ing what,  her  whole  endeavours  are  directed  to 
cheer  him,  and  to  wipe  away  the  tears  from  his 
eyes  which  so  easily  flow,  because  their  courses 
and  floodgates  have  become  so  wide  and  fluent. 
She  possesses  what  is  called  good  and  agreeable 
manners,  without  loving  or  seeking  much  socie- 
ty ;  they  have  therefore  been  formed  by  the  com- 
pany she  kept,  and  rendered  pleasing  also  to  per- 
sons of  rank.  Towards  the  children  by  the  firn 
marriage  she  is  every  thing  that  Stilling  can 
wish ;  she  is  wholly  mother  and  friend.  1  do  not 
wish  to  say  more  of  the  noble-minded  woman ; 
she  has  read  all  that  precedes,  and  reproved  me 
for  having  praised  her;  however,  I  owe  more  to 
her  and  my  readers,  to  the  praise  of  God;  I  have 
therefore  concealed  from  her  what  I  have  just 
said,  and  what  follows.  She  is  rather  short,  and 
stiffly  formed;  has  a  pleasing  and  intelligent 
countenance;  and  from  her  blue  eyes  and  smi- 
ling looks  a  stream  of  benevolence  and  philan- 
thropy pours  forth  towards  every  noble-minded 
individual.  In  all  her  affairs,  even  in  those 
which  are.  not  directly  feminine,  she  has  a  calm 
and  penetrating  look,  and  always  a  mature  and 
deciding  judgment,  so  that  her  husband  often  ad- 
vises with  her;  and  when  his  rapid  and  active 
spirit  is  partial,  he  follows  her,  and  always  fares 
well  in  so  doing.  Her  religious  views  are  en- 
lightened, and  she  is  warm  in  her  love  to  God, 
to  her  Redeemer,  and  to  man.  Sparing  as  she 
is,  she  is  equally  generous  and  benevolent,  where 


STILLING. 

it  is  requisite.  Her  modesty  is  peculiar;  she 
seeks  always  to  be  dependant  on  her  husband,' 
and  is  so  even  when  he  follows  her  advice;  she 
never  seeks  to  shine,  and  yet  she  pleases  wher- 
ever she  appears;  every  worthy  character  feels 
happy  in  her  society.  I  could  say  still  more; 
but  I  set  bounds  to  my  pen.  "  Whom  God  loves, 
he  gives  such  a  wife,"  says  Götz  Vcn  Berlich- 
ingen  of  his  Maria,  and  Stilling  says  the  same 
of  his  Selma. 

Besides  all  this,  his  income  is  large,  and  all 
care  about  his  maintenance  is  entirely  vanished. 
Of  his  usefulness  in  his  vocation  it  is  not  the 
place  to  speak  here ;  the  man  of  integrity  and 
the  Christian  labors  incessantly,  commits  the 
success  of  it  to  God,  and  is  silent. 

He  continues  to  operate  for  the  cataract,  at 
Marburg  also,  gratuitously,  and  with  much  suc- 
cess. More  than  a  hundred  blind  people,  prin- 
cipally of  the  poor  and  laboring  class,  have  al- 
ready received  their  sight  through  him,  with 
God's  help,  and  with  it  the  means  of  again  earn- 
ing their  bread.  How  many  a  delightful  hour 
does  this  easy  and  beneficial  aid  occasion  him; 
when,  after  the  operation,  or  at  their  departure, 
those  who  have  been  so  long  blind  press  his  hands, 
and  direct  him  for  a  recompense  to  the  exceed- 
ingly rich  inheritance  of  the  future  world  !  For 
ever  blessed  be  the  woman  who  formerly  con- 
strained him  to  try  this  beneficial  mode  of  cure! 
without  it,  he  would  not  have  been  so  efficient 
an  instrument  in  the  hand  of  the  Father  of  the 
poor  and  the  blind.  Ever  blessed  be  also  the 
memory  of  the  venerable  Molitor !  May  his 
spirit  enjoy,  in  the  brilliant  plains  of  the  paradise 
of  God,  all  the  superabundant  felicity  of  the  friend 
of  man,  for  having  instructed  Stilling  as  an  oc- 
ulist, and  laid  the  first  masterly  hand  on  him. 

Young  man,  thou  who  readest  this,  watch  over 
every  germ  of  benevolence  and  philanthropy  that 
springs  forth  in  thy  soul;  cherish  it  with  su- 
preme care,  and  nourish  it  up  to  a  tree  of  life 
that  bears  twelve  manner  of  fruits.  If  foresight 
destines  thee  to  a  useful  vocation,  pursue  it; 
but  if  some  other  impulse  awake  beside,  or  if 
Providence  unfold  a  prospect  to  thee,  where, 
without  injuring  thy  peculiar  vocation,  theu 
canst  disseminate  seeds  of  blessedness,  then 
neglect  it  not;  let  it  cost  thee  toil,  and  arduous 
labour,  if  needful ;  for  nothing  conducts  us  more 
immediately  nearer  to  God  than  beneficence. 

But  beware  of  the  false  activity  which  so 
greatly  prevails  in  the  present  age,  and  which  I 
am  wont  to  call  bustling  affectation.  The  slave 
of  sensuality,  the  voluptuary,  covers  filthiness 
with  the  whitewash  of  philanthropy;  he  wishes 
to  do  good  in  all  directions,  but  knows  not  what 
is  good ;  he  often  assists  a  poor  good-for-nothing 
to  gain  a  situation,  where  he  does  amazing  in- 
jury, and  works  where  he  ought  not  to  work. 
In  this  manner  acts  also  the  proud  priest  of  his 
own  reason,  who,  notwithstanding,  makes  dread- 
ful mistakes  by  his  childish  sophistry  in  the  vale 
of  shadows  and  ignes  fatui;  he  seeks  to  be  an 
autocrat  in  the  moral  creation,  lays  unhewn  or 
even  mouldering  stones  in  the  building,  in  the 
improper  place,  and  plasters  up  chasms  and 
holes  with  untempered  mortar. 

Young  man,  first  seek  a  renewed  heart,  and 
let  thy  understanding  be  enlightened  by  the 
heavenly  light  of  truth  !  Be  pure  in  heart,  and 
thou  shalt  see  God  ;  and  when  thou  beholdest 
the  source  of  light,  thou  wilt  also  discover  the 
strait  and  narrow  way  that  leadeth  unto  life; 
then  pray  daily  to  God,  that  he  may  give  thee 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


123 


opportunities  of  doing  good  ;  and  if  such  present 
themselves,  seize  them  with  avidity  ;  be  of  good 
courage,  God  will  assist  thee  ;  and  when  thou 
hast  succeeded  in  a  worthy  action,  thank  God 
fervently  in  thy  closet,  and  be  silent ! 

Before  I  conclude,  I  must  cast  something  off 
my  heart  that  oppresses  me.  It  is  difficult  to 
write  the  history  of  living  persons ;  the  indi- 
vidual commits  faults,  sins,  weaknesses,  and 
follies,  which  cannot  be  revealed  to  the  public  ; 
hence  the  hero  of  the  tale  appears  better  than  he 
is ;  just  as  little  can  all  the  good  be  told  that  he 
does,  lest  he  be  deprived  of  his  gracious  reward. 

However,  I  am  not  writing  Stilling's  whole 
life  and  conduct,  but  the  history  of  Providence  in 
its  gu  idance  of  him.  The  great  Judge  will  eventu- 
ally lay  his  faults  in  the  one,  and  his  little  good 
in  the  other  golden  scale  of  the  sanctuary.  He 
is  altogether  an  unprofitable  servant;  but  thy 
eternal  love,  O  Thou  Most  Merciful!  as  mani- 
fested in  the  gift  of  thy  beloved  Son,  will  abun- 
dantly supply  all  his  need. 


STILLING'S  HYMN  OF  PRAISE. 
[Imitated  from  Psalm  cxviii.] 

Blessed  be  the  Lord  !    Hrs  eye  benignant  beams, 
And  from  his  face  divine  compassion  streams  ; 
His  genial  breath  unfolds  the.  blooming  rose  ; 
He  gives  the  troubled  spirit  sweet  repose. 
Ye  saints  of  his,  approach,  and  praise  his  grace, 
Holy  and  good  through  everlasting  days  ; 
Servants  of  God,  rejoice,  and  bless  the  Lord, 
And  tread  the  path  prescribed  you  in  his  word ! 
Let  all  that  love  Him  to  his  throne  ascend, 
And  offer  grateful  praises  without  end  ; 
Ascend,  ye  righteous,  who  true  virtue  love 
And  let  your  songs  resound  to  God  above. 
My  path  was  steep,  in  twilight  and  in  shade, 
And  lightnings  flash'd  o'er  my  devoted  head, 
Sorrows,  on  every  hand,  my  soul  did  wound, 
But  still  my  prayer  to  Thee  admittance  found  ; 
And  thou  did'st  hear —  did'st  answer  my  request, 
And  bring  my  suffering  heart  to  peaceful  rest ; 
Didst  let  me  see  sublime  and  glorious  aid, 
And  soothed  the  grief  which  on  my  vitals  prey'd. 
The  Lord  is  with  me  !  who  can  now  oppose? 
Or  who  disturb  my  inward,  calm  repose  ? 
E'en  though  new  sorrows  in  my  path  appear, 
I  fear  them  now  no  more — the  Lord  is  here  I 
The  Lord  is  ever  near  to  strengthen  and  sustain  ; 
He  can  the  rage  of  every  foe  restrain. 
Of  what  avails  the  trust  in  human  aid, 
So  oft  frustrated,  and  so  ill  repaid  1 
The  Lord  is  good  ;  his  word  must  be  believed  ; 
Who  trusts  in  him  shall  never  be  deceived. 


How  often  is  the  word  of  princes  broke  ! 

The  Prince  of  princes  does  whate'er  He  spoke 

Troubles  assail'd  me,  like  the  busy  swarm  ; 

Fiercely  they  buzz'd  around  to  do  me  harm ; 

E'en  as  Jehovah's  host  they  sharply  fought, 

And  made  the  arduous  conquest  dearly  bought. 

As  smoking  thorns  around  and  upwards  dart, 

Causing  the  brightest  eye  to  feel  the  smart, 

And,  hissing,  in  the  heat  consume  away, 

Till  root  and  branch  füll  to  the  flames  a  prey: 

So  pierced  the  purging  fire  through  all  my  frame, 

Till  chaff  and  stubble  disappear'd  in  flame  ; 

Down  to  the  dust  sank  my  dejected  eye, 

Or  upwards  look'd,  for  succour  from  on  high. 

But  soon  Jehovah's  breath  these  foes  repell'd, 

And  graciously  the  raging  flame  dispell'd  ; 

With  mighty  hand  He  shewed  his  power  to  save, 

And  drew  me  forth,  renew'd  as  from  the  grave. 

God  is  my  strength,  my  succour  and  my  song  ! 

Ye  saints,  your  hallelujah's  loud  prolong  ! 

From  earth  to  heaven  your  glorious  anthems  raise, 

Whilst  suns,  and  spheres,  and  seraphs  sound  his  praise. 

The  Lord's  right  hand  the  victory  retains, 

And,  highly  lifted  up,  its  power  maintains  ; 

Jehovah's  hand  o'ercomes :  and  though  I  fall, 

I  rise  again  when  on  his  name  I  call. 

I  shall  not  die,  but  live,  long  to  declare 
How  great  and  marvellous  his  mercies  are  ; 
Although  He  chasten,  yet  his  strengtli  prepares 
Me  for  his  service  in  succeeding  years. 

Unfold  the  golden  gates,  that  I  may  bring 

A  warm  and  contrite  heart  to  heaven's  great  King. 

And  at  the  golden  altar  sing  his  praise, 

Who  all  my  woes  with  happiness  repays  ! 

Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  brings  the  lofty  low, 
And  makes  my  towering  spirit  humbly  bow ; 
Abases,  softens,  and  with  kindness  sways, 
To  fit  me  for  his  service  and  his  praise. 

The  stone  by  men  for  building  thought  unfit, 
Too  tender,  or  too  hard,  no  place  would  fit  ; 
Yet  still  the  master-builder  form'd  and  hew'd, 
And  shaped  the  stone  out  of  the  mass  so  rude. 

'Twas  God's  own  work,  and  wondrous  in  our  eyes  ! 
His  people  view  it  now  with  glad  surprise. 
This  is  the  joyful  day,  when  we  behold 
How  every  hair  upon  our  heads  is  told. 

0  Lord,  help  still !  and  further  grant  success, 
And  on  my  soul  thy  image  deep  impress  ! 
Blessed  is  the  man  that  comes  to  praise  thy  name  ; 
Who  does  thy  will  shall  ne'er  be  put  to  shame. 

God  is  our  light !  come  and  adorn  his  house, 
And  at  his  holy  altar  pay  your  vows  ; 
Let  harp  and  tabret  to  his  honour  sound, 
Faithful,  and  kind,  and  true  for  ever  found ! 

Thou  art  my  God  !  and  I  thy  goodness  praise, 
Which  wondrously  hath  led' me  all  my  days. 
Thou  art  my  God  !  when  I  thy  grace  review, 

1  pav  the  thanks  which  justly  are  thy  due. 

Hallelujah ! 


HEINRICH  STILLING'S  YEARS   OF  TUITION. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Dear  readers  and  friends  of  Stilling,  you  may 
take  the  title,  "  Heinrich  Stilling's  Years  of  Tui- 
tion," in  whatever  sense  you  please.  He  had 
been  hitherto  a  teacher  himself,  and  had  served 
in  every  gradation  ;  he  began  as  village-school- 
master at  Zellberg,  and  ended  as  professor  at 
Marburg.  But  he  was  also  a  pupil  or  appren- 
tice in  the  work-shop  of  the  chief  Master ; 
whether  he  will  become  journeyman  or  no,  will 
soon  be  seen  : — further  than  this,  he  will  cer- 
tainly not  advance,  because  we  have  all  only 
one  master,  and  can  have  only  one. 

Stilling  now  firmly  believed  that  the  profes- 
sorship of  civil  and  political  economy  was  the 
vocation  for  wrhich  he  had  been  preparing  from 
his  cradle,  and  that  Marburg  was  the  place  j 


where  he  was  to  live  and  labour  till  his  end 
This  conviction  afforded  him  inward  tranquil- 
lity ;  and  he  strove,  in  his  official  situation,  to 
do  every  thing  which  was  in  the  power  of  man 
to  do.  He  wrote  his  large  and  copious  Manual 
of  Civil  and  Political  Science,  his  Science  of 
Finance,  the  Camerale  Practicum,  the  Princi- 
ples of  Political  Economy,  Heinrich  Stilling's 
Domestic  Life,  and  many  other  little  treatises 
and  pamphlets,  during  which  he  continued,  un- 
interruptedly, his  ophthalmic  practice.  He  daily 
read  lectures  for  four  and  sometimes  five  hours 
together,  and  his  correspondence  became  more 
and  more  extensive  ;  so  that  he  was  obliged  to 
labour  with  all  his  might,  in  order  to  keep  his 
large  and  difficult  sphere  of  action  in  motion ; 
much,  however,  was  rendered  easy  to  him  by 
his  residing  at  Marburg. 


124 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


This  ancient  city,  celebrated  of  old  as  being 
the  last  abode  and  burying-place  of  the  holy 
Landgravine  Elizabeth  of  Hesse,  lies  crookedly, 
obliquely,  and  irregularly  below  an  old  castle, 
on  the  slope  of  a  hill ;  its  narrow  streets,  clay 
houses,  &c,  leave  on  the  mind  of  him  who  only 
travels  through  it,  or  is  merely  superficially  ac- 
quainted with  it,  a  prejudicial,  but  in  reality  an 
incorrect  impression ;  for  if  he  becomes  ac- 
quainted with  the  internal  social  life  of  its  in- 
habitants, and  the  people  in  their  true  charac- 
ter, he  finds  a  cordiality,  and  such  a  real  friend- 
ship as  is  seldom  met  with  elsewhere.  This  is 
no  vain  compliment,  but  a  thank-offering  and  a 
true  testimony,  which  I  owe  to  the  worthy  in- 
habitants of  Marburg. 

To  this  must  be  added,  that  the  vicinity  of 
the  city  is  beautiful  and  very  agreeable,  and  the 
whole  scene  is  animated  by  the  river  Lahn  ; 
for  though  it  bears  no  heavy  burdens  upon  its 
slender  back,  yet  it  labours  diligently  as  a  por- 
ter, and  helps  the  neighbours  on  every  side. 

The  first  family  in  Marburg  which  opened 
the  arms  of  friendship  to  Stilling  and  Selma, 
was  that  of  the  Coings.  Doctor  Johann  Franz 
Coing  was  professor  of  Divinity,  and  a  real 
Christian  ;  and  to  these,  he  united  a  friendly, 
gentle,  pleasing,  and  secretly  benevolent  char- 
acter. His  spouse  was  likewise  devout  and 
pious ;  both  were  descended  from  the  French 
refugees,  and  the  family-name  of  the  professor's 
lady  was  Duising.  This  worthy  couple  had 
four  grown-up  children, — three  daughters,  Eli- 
za, Maria,  and  Amalia  ;  and  a  son  called  Jus- 
tus, who  studied  theology  ;  these  four  children 
are  the  images  of  their  parents,  and  models  of 
the  christian  and  domestic  virtues.  The  whole 
family  lives  in  a  very  quiet  and  retired  man- 
ner. 

The  reasons  why  the  family  of  the  Coings  at- 
tached themselves  so  warmly  and  cordially  to 
that  of  the  Stillings,  were  various : — parents  and 
children  had  read  Stilling's  history ;  both  the 
men  were  from  the  same  province  ;  relatives  on 
both  sides  had  intermarried.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Kraft  in  Frankfort,  Stilling's  old  and  tried  friend, 
was  Coing's  brother-in-law,  their  wives  being 
sisters ;  and  what  is  still  more  than  all,  tbey 
were  christians  on  both  sides,  and  this  establish- 
es the  bond  of  love  and  friendship  more  firmly 
than  any  thing  else.  Where  the  spirit  of  Christi- 
anity reigns,  it  unites  the  hearts,  by  the  bond  of 
perfection,  in  such  a  high  degree,  that  all  other 
human  connections  are  not  to  be  compared  with 
it ; — he  is  happy,  who  experiences  it ! 

Selma  attached  herself  particularly  to  Eliza 
Coing ;  equality  of  age,  and  perhaps  other 
causes,  which  lay  in  the  character  of  both,  laid 
the  foundation  for  this  intimate  connection. 

Stilling's  many  and  laborious  employments, 
and  particularly  also  a  most  oppressive  spasmo- 
dic attack,  which  greatly  tormented  him  daily, 
and  especially  towards  evening,  operated  pow- 
erfully on  his  mind,  the  first  winter  he  spent  in 
Marburg.  He  lost  his  cheerfulness,  became 
melancholy,  and  so  easily  excited  that  he  could 
not  avoid  weeping  on  the  slightest  occasion. 
Selma  therefore  sought  to  persuade  him  to  un- 
dertake a  journey,  during  the  Easter  vacation, 
to  her  relatives  in  Franconia  and  Oettingen. 
"With  much  difficulty  she  at  length  induced  him 
to  consent ;  and  he  undertook  this  journey  in 


the  spring  of  1788.  A  student  from  Anspach 
accompanied  him  to  that  place. 

It  is  something  peculiar  in  Stilling's  charac- 
ter, that  rural  scenery  makes  such  a  deep  and 
beneficial  impression  upon  him  ;  whether  he  be 
travelling  or  merely  taking  a  walk,  it  is  with 
him  as  with  a  lover  of  the  arts  when  walking 
about  in  an  excellent  picture-gallery.  Stilling 
possesses  a  classical  feeling  for  the  beauties  of 
nature. 

On  the  journey  through  Franconia,  he  was 
incessantly  tormented  by  spasms  at  the  sto- 
mach ;  he  could  not  bear  any  kind  of  food  ;  but 
the  character  of  the  scenery  of  that  country  was 
strengthening  and  comforting  to  him  ; — there 
is  much  grandeur  in  the  views  and  prospects  of 
Franconia. 

At  Anspach,  Stilling  visited  Uz,  the  German 
Anacreon.  He  entered  into  the  apartment  of 
this  great  lyric  poet  with  a  kind  of  timidity ; 
Uz,  who  is  short,  but  rather  corpulent  in  per- 
son, came  towards  him  with  a  cheerful  gravity, 
and  awaited,  with  reason,  the  declaration  of  the 
stranger,  to  tell  him  who  he  was.  This  decla- 
ration was  no  sooner  made,  than  the  worthy 
old  man  embraced  and  saluted  him,  saying, 
"You  are  truly  Heinrich  Stilling! — it  rejoices 
me  much  to  see  the  man  whom  Providence  so 
remarkably  leads,  and  who  so  boldly  confesses 
and  courageously  defends  the  religion  of  Jesus." 

The  conversation  then  turned  on  poets  and 
poesy;  and  when  they  separated,  Uztook  Still- 
ing once  more  in  his  arms,  and  said,  "May  God 
bless,  strengthen,  and  preserve  you  !  Never  be 
weary  in  defending  the  cause  of  religion,  and  of 
bearing  the  reproach  of  our  Redeemer  and  our 
Head  !  The  present  age  needs  such  men,  and 
the  following  will  need  them  still  more  !  We 
shall  eventually  see  each  other  again  with  joy  in 
a  better  world  !" 

Stilling  felt  deeply  and  inwardly  affected  and 
strengthened,  and  hastened  away  with  his  eyes 
suffused  in  tears. 

Uz,  Cramer,  and  Klopstock  will  probably  be 
the  Asaph,  Heman,  and  Jeduthun  in  the  temple 
of  the  new  Jerusalem.  We  shall  see  if  this  be 
the  case,  when  scenes  in  the  invisible  world  are 
again  unfolded  to  us. 

The  next  morning  Stilling  rode  five  leagues 
further  to  the  village  of  Kernmathen,  a  place 
not  far  from  Dünkelsbuhl.  He  there  drove  up 
to  the  parsonage-house,  alighted  at  the  door  of 
the  court-yard,  and  waited  for  it  to  be  opened. 
The  clergyman,  a  handsome,  dark-complexioned 
man,  came  out  of  the  house,  opened  the  gate, 
and  thought  of  nothing  so  little  as  of  seeing 
his  brother-in-law,  Stilling ; — the  surprise  was 
great.  The  clergyman's  lady,  meanwhile,  was 
otherwise  engaged,  and  in  reality,  she  did  not 
exactly  like  to  be  disturbed  in  her  employment 
by  a  visitor ;  however,  when  her  husband  con 
ducted  the  visitor  to  her,  she  received  him  po- 
litely, as  customary  ;  but  when  he  told  her  that 
he  brought  a  message  from  her  sister  Selma, 
and  also  called  her  "  sister,"  she  welcomed  him 
most  cordially. 

Stilling  spent  a  few  happy  days  with  brother 
Hohlbach  and  sister  Sophia.  Their  reciprocal 
brotherly  and  sisterly  affection  is  immutable, 
and  will  continue  beyond  the  grave. 

Sister  Sophia  accompanied  her  brother-in-law 
to  Wallerstein,  to  her  brother's  house.  At 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


125 


Oeningen  they  drove  past  the  church-yard 
where  Selma's  and  Sophia's  father  reposes,  to 
whom  each  devoted  some  silent  tears ;  as  they 
did  also  at  Baldingen,  at  their  mother's  grave. 
The  brother  and  his  lady  rejoiced  at  the  visit. 

No  sooner  had  Prince  Kraft  Ernest  Von  Oet- 
tingen  Wallerstein  heard  of  Sailing's  arrival, 
than  he  invited  him,  as  long  as  he  should  re- 
main there,  to  dine  and  sup  at  the  prince's 
table  ;  he  accepted  this  offer,  but  only  for  din- 
ner, becaflse  he  wished  to  spend  the  evenings 
in  the  circle  of  his  friends.  This  prince's  terri- 
tory is  one  of  the  most  pleasant  in  Germany ; 
for  the  Riess  is  a  plain,  many  miles  in  diameter, 
which  is  watered  by  the  Mernitz,  and  surround- 
ed by  lofty  mountains.  From  the  moderate 
eminence  at  the  foot  of  which  Wallerstein  lies, 
there  is  a  commanding  prospect  of  this  garden 
of  God  ;  near  at  hand  is  the  imperial  city  of 
Nordlingen,  and  an  innumerable  multitude  of 
towns  and  villages  are  also  within  view. 

Stilling's  residence  here  was  beneficial,  by 
his  being  of  service  to  several  persons  diseased 
in  the  eye ;  he  performed  an  operation  upon 
president  Von  Schade,  which  proved  successful, 
and  the  worthy  man  recovered  his  sight.  At 
this  time  the  notorious  Weckherlin,  author  of 
"  The  Grey  Monster,"  and  "  The  Hyperborean 
Letters,"  was  in  prison  in  a  hill-fort  in  the 
principality  of  Wallerstein.  He  had  grossly 
and  in  a  malicious  manner  insulted  the  magis- 
trate of  the  imperial  city  of  Nordlingen,  who 
sent  a  requisition  to  the  prince  of  Wallerstein, 
in  whose  territory  Weckherlin  was  residing, 
demanding  satisfaction.  The  prince  therefore 
had  him  arrested  and  conveyed  to  the  hill  fort. 
The  prince's  brother,  Count  Franz  Ludwig, 
would  gladly  have  procured  the  captive's  free- 
dom, and  had  made  several  fruitless  attempts 
to  do  so ;  but  on  observing  that  the  prince  ex- 
pressed a  particular  fondness  for  Stilling,  he 
entreated*  the  latter  to  beg  that  Weckherlin 
might  be  set  at  liberty,  for  he  had  already  en- 
dured a  sufficient  penance  for  his  petulance. 

There  are  cases  in  which  the  true  christian 
cannot  come  to  a  decision  with  himself ;  and 
this  was  one  of  that  kind.  To  request  the 
liberty  of  a  man  who  had  abused  it  to  the  pre- 
judice of  his  fellow-creatures,  and  especially  of 
the  magistracy,  required  consideration  ;  and  on 
the  other  hand,  imprisonment,  particularly  for 
such  a  man  as  Weckherlin,  is  a  grievous  afflic- 
tion. The  recollection  that  there  were  still  a 
variety  of  means  to  restrain  a  man  that  abuses 
his  liberty,  outweighed  Stilling's  scruples  ;  he 
therefore  ventured,  during  dinner,  to  beg  of  the 
prince  to  set  Weckherlin  at  liberty.  The  prince 
smiled,  and  rejoined,  "  If  I  let  him  loose  he  will 
go  into  some  other  country,  and  then  I  shall 
be  attacked ; — besides  this,  he  is  in  want  of 
nothing ;  he  can  take  a  walk  in  the  castle,  and 
enjoy  the  free  air."  However,  not  long  after, 
the  prisoner  was  released. 

After  an  agreeable  residence  of  ten  days, 
Stilling  set  out  again  from  Wallerstein.  His 
relatives  accompanied  him  to  Dünkelsbühl,  to 
which  place  sister  Sophia  also  came  ;  here  they 
all  remained  together  a  night ;  and  the  next 
morning,  Stilling  took  a  tender  leave  of  them 
all,  and  continued  his  journey  to  Frankfort. 
He  there  met  his  daughter  Hannah  at  his  friend 
Kraft's;  she  had  been  for  a  while  with  her 


relatives  in  the  Netherlands,  and  was  now 
grown-up.  The  father  rejoiced  over  the  daugh- 
ter, and  the  daughter  over  the  father.  Both 
then  rode  together  to  Marburg.  Selma,  ac- 
companied by  friend  Going  and  her  friend  Eliza, 
came  as  far  as  Giessen  to  meet  them,  and  thus 
they  all  arrived  again,  happy  and  contented,  at 
home. 

He  that  imagines  Stilling's  situation  was  at 
that  time  devoid  of  sorrow,  is  much  mistaken. 
There  are  sufferings,  the  most  painful  of  all,  of 
which  we  can  complain  to  the  Almighty  alone  ; 
because  they  would  become  perfectly  intolerable 
through  the  idea  that  our  most  intimate  friends 
had  any  knowledge  of  them.  I  therefore  very 
seriously  beg  all  my  readers,  by  no  means  to 
reflect  upon  this  kind  of  sufferings,  lest  they  fall 
upon  suppositions  which  in  this  case  would  be 
sinful.  Irrespective  of  this,  Stilling's  spas- 
modic attacks  caused  him  sufficient  suffering. 

About  this  time,  there  came  a  worthy  indi- 
vidual to  Marburg.  He  was  governor  to  two 
young  noblemen,  who  were  to  study  there  under 
his  superintendance ; — we  will  here  call  him 
Raschmann.  He  had  studied  divinity,  and  pos- 
sessed peculiar  abilities  ;  he  had  a  penetrating 
mind,  an  extraordinarily  quick  perception,  a 
very  highly  cultivated  classical  feeling,  and  was 
possessed  of  an  incomparable  diligence.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  was  also  a  severe  judge 
of  every  one  with  whom  he  became  acquainted  ; 
and  this  very  becoming  acquainted  with  persons 
was  one  of  his  most  favorite  and  agreeable  em- 
ployments. In  every  place  and  in  every  com- 
pany, he  observed  with  an  eagle's  eye  each 
individual,  and  their  actions,  and  then  decided 
respecting  their  character ;  practice  had,  it  is 
true,  made  an  adept  of  him  ;  but  his  judgments 
were  not  always  under  the  direction  of  christian 
love,  nor  were  failings  always  covered  with  its 
mantle.  However,  he  had  excellently  educated 
the  young  Counts,  and  they  still  rank  amongst 
the  best  men  I  know.  This  caused  him,  not- 
withstanding his  criticising  habit,  to  be  esteem- 
ed in  the  eyes  of  every  worthy  man. 

He  had  acted  a  prominent  part  in  a  certain 
connection,  and  had  there  attained  his  expert- 
ness  in  the  knowledge  of  mankind.  In  other 
respects,  he  loved  splendour  and  a  good  table  ; 
he  drank  the  best  wines,  and  his  food  was 
choice  and  delicate.  In  his  deportment,  he  was 
very  precise,  captious,  and  passionate  ;  and  his 
domestics  were  harassed  and  ill-treated.  This 
remarkable  man  sought  Stilling's  friendship ; 
he  and  his  young  pupils  attended  all  his  lectures, 
and  visited  him  two  or  three  times  a  week  at 
his  house ;  and  he  dined  frequently  with  him, 
together  with  other  professors  and  friends.  So 
much  is  certain,  that  Stilling  found  Raschmann's 
society  agreeable,  however  much  they  differed 
in  their  religious  sentiments  ;  for  Raschmann's 
acquirements  were  very  extensive  and  refined, 
and,  in  the  company  of  those  who  were  not  be- 
neath him,  he  was  very  agreeable  and  extremely 
entertaining. 

In  the  summer  of  that  year  (1788),  Counsellor 
Mieg,  of  Heidelberg,  with  his  estimable  lady, 
came  also  to  Marburg,  in  order  to  visit  their 
friends  there,  and  amongst  others,  Stilling  and 
Selma.  The  integrity,  unremitting  activity  in 
doing  good,  and  the  feeling,  benevolent  soul  of 
Mieg,  had  made  a  pleasing  impression  upon 


126 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


Stilling,  so  that  they  were  cordial  friends  ;  and 
the  two  ladies,  likewise,  stood  in  the  same  con- 
nexion with  each  other.  This  visit  lied  the 
knot  still  more  firmly ;  but  it  had,  besides  this, 
an  important  effect  on  Selling's  mode  of  think- 
ing and  his  philosophical  system. 

Stilling,  by  means  of  Leibnitz  and  Wolfs 
philosophy,  had  fallen  into  the  heavy  bondage 
of  fatalism.  He  had  struggled  for  twenty  years 
together,  by  prayer  and  supplication,  against 
this  giant,  without  being  able  to  overcome  him. 
He  had,  indeed,  always  maintained,  in  his  wri- 
tings, the  freedom  of  the  will  and  of  human 
actions,  and  had  believed  in  it  also,  in  opposition 
to  all  the  objections  of  his  reason.  He  had, 
likewise,  never  ceased  praying;  although  this 
giant  continually  whispered  in  his  ear,  u  Thy 
prayers  avail  not ;  for  what  God  in  his  counsels 
has  decreed,  takes  place,  whether  thou  pray  or 
not."  But  notwithstanding  this,  Stilling  con- 
tinued to  believe  and  pray,  but  without  light  or 
consolation  ;  even  his  answers  to  prayer  did 
not  comfort  him,  for  the  giant  said  it  was  mere 
accident.  0  God  !  this  was  a  dreadful  tempta- 
tion !  All  the  delights  of  religion  ;  its  promises 
of  this  life  and  that  which  is  to  come  ;  this  only 
consolation  in  life,  suffering,  and  death,  becomes 
an  illusive  phantom,  as  soon  as  the  individual 
gives  ear  to  fatalism.  Mieg  was  accidentally 
Stilling's  deliverer  from  this  captivity.  He  was 
speaking,  on  one  occasion,  of  a  certain  treatise 
on  philosophy,  which  had  pleased  him  extreme- 
ly. He  then  adduced,  likewise,  the  postulate 
of  Kant's  moral  principles,  which  is,  "  Act  so, 
that  the  maxims  of  thy  intentions  may  be  al- 
ways a  universal  law."  This  excited  Stilling's 
attention.  The  novelty  of  this  position  made  a 
deep  impression  upon  him,  and  he  determined 
to  read  Kant's  writings  ; — he  had  hitherto  shud- 
dered at  the  thought,  because  the  study  of  a 
new  philosophy,  and  especially  this,  seemed  an 
unsurmountable  object. 

He  naturally  read  first,  Kant's  "  Critique  of 
Pure  Reason."  He  soon  comprehended  its 
meaning,  and  his  struggle  with  fatalism  was  all 
at  once  at  an  end.  Kant  proves,  from  incon- 
trovertible grounds,  that  human  reason  knows 
nothing  beyond  the  limits  of  the  visible  world  ; 
and,  that  in  super-sensible  things,  so  often  as  it 
judges  and  decides  from  its  own  principles,  it 
always  stumbles  upon  contradictions ;  that  is, 
it  contradicts  itself.  This  book  is  a  commen- 
tary on  the  words  of  Paul,  "  The  natural  man 
knoweth  nothing  of  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  for  they  are  foolishness  unto  him,"  &c. 

Stilling's  soul  was  now  as  if  it  had  gained 
wings ;  it  had  been  hitherto  intolerable  to  him 
that  human  reason,  this  divine  gift  which  dis- 
tinguishes us  from  the  brute  creation,  should 
be  entirely  opposed  to  that  religion  which  was 
supremely  dear  to  him.  But  he  now  found 
every  thing  appropriate  and  worthy  of  God  ; — 
he  found  the  source  of  super-sensible  truths,  in 
the  revelation  of  God  to  man  in  the  Bible ;  and 
the  source  of  all  the  truths  which  appertain  to 
this  earthly  life  in  nature  and  reason.  On  one 
occasion,  when  Stilling  wrote  to  Kant,  he  ex- 
pressed his  joy  and  approbation  to  this  great 
philosopher.  Kant  replied,  and  in  his  letter 
stood  the  never-to-be-forgotten  words,  "  You 
also  do  well  in  seeking  your  sole  consolation  in 
the  gospel ;  for  it  is  the  never-fading  source  of 


all  truth,  which,  when  reason  has  measured 
out  its  whole  jurisdiction,  can  be  found  nowhere 
else." 

Stilling  afterwards  read  also  Kant's  "  Critique 
of  Practical  Reason,"  and  then  his  "  Religion 
within  the  Bounds  of  Reason."  At  first  he 
thought  he  perceived  probability  in  both  ;  but 
on  maturer  reflection,  he  saw  that  Kant  did  not 
seek  the  source  of  super-sensible  truth  in  the 
gospel,  but  in  the  moral  principle.  But  can 
this  moral  feeling  in  man,  which  bids  the  Mexi- 
can offer  human  sacrifices,  the  North  American 
scalp  the  innocent  captive,  the  Otaheitan  steal, 
and  the  Hindoo  worship  a  cow, — can  this  be 
the  source  of  super-sensible  truth  ?  Or,  sup- 
posing it  was  said. — Not  the  corrupt,  but  the 
pure  moral  principle,  which  properly  expresses 
his  position,  is  this  source  ;  I  answer,  that  the 
pure  moral  principle  is  a  mere  form,  an  empty 
faculty  of  knowing  good  and  evil.  But  now 
show  me,  anywhere,  a  man  who  is  solely  under 
the  influence  of  this  moral  principle.  All  are 
deluded,  from  their  youth  up,  by  a  variety  of 
errors,  so  that  they  take  good  for  evil,  and  evil 
for  good.  In  order  that  the  moral  principle 
may  become  the  true  guide  of  human  conduct, 
that  which  is  truly  good  and  beautiful  must  be 
given  the  individual  from  a  pure  and  infallible 
source  ; — but  where  can  such  a  pure  and  infal- 
lible source  be  found,  out  of  the  Bible  1  It  is 
a  sure  and  eternal  truth,  that  every  axiom  of  the 
vihole  code  of  morality  is  an  immediate  revelation 
from  God  ;  let  any  one  prove  to  me  the  contrary. 
What  the  wisest  heathens  have  said  that  is 
beautiful,  was  imparted  to  them  by  means  of 
manifold  reflection  from  the  light  of  revelation. 

Stilling  had,  however,  gained  sufficient  from 
Kant's  M  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  ;"  and  this 
book  is,  and  will  remain,  the  only  possible  phil- 
osophy,— taking  the  word  in  the  common  ac- 
ceptation of  the  term. 

Now,  much  as  Stilling  was  tranquillized  on 
this  side,  yet  a  different  and  still  greater  danger 
threatened  him  from  another;  a  more  subtle, 
and  consequently  also  a  more  dangerous  foe, 
sought  to  ensnare  him.  His  frequent  inter- 
course with  Raschmann  gradually  imparted  to 
him,  without  his  observing  it,  a  number  of  ideas 
which,  singly,  did  not  seem  to  him  at  all  sus- 
picious ;  but  afterwards,  collectively  taken,  form- 
ed a  basis  from  whence,  in  time,  nothing  could 
have  resulted  but,  first,  Socinianism ;  next, 
Deism  ;  then,  Naturalism  ;  and  finally,  Athe- 
ism ;  and  with  it,  anti-christianity.  But  his 
heavenly  Guide  did  not  suffer  it  to  prevail  so 
far  with  him  as  even  to  make  a  commencement 
of  this  falling-away  from  divine  truth  ; — how- 
ever, it  was  already  bad  enough,  that  the  atoning, 
sacrifice  of  Jesus  began  to  appear  to  him  to  be 
an  oriental  embellishment  of  the  moral  merits 
of  the  Saviour  in  behalf  of  men. 

Raschmann  was  able  to  express  this  with  so 
much  apparent  warmth  and  veneration  for  the 
Redeemer,  and  with  such  a  plausible  love  to 
Him,  that  Stilling  began  to  be  persuaded.  How- 
ever, happily  it  did  not  proceed  further  with 
him  ;  for  his  religious  ideas  and  frequent  expe- 
rience were  much  too  deeply  rooted  in  his  whole 
being  for  him  to  decline  further,  or  even  to  be- 
gin to  do  so. 

This  state  of  mind  lasted  about  a  year  ;  and 
a  certain  illustrious  and  devout  lady  will  stiH 


STILLING'S  YEARS  OF  TUITION. 


127 


remember  a  letter  of  Selling's  written  at  that 
time,  which  withdrew  her  affection  and  esteem 
from  him  for  a  period, — that  is,  until  his  mind 
had  again  returned  to  the  truth. 

Thank  God,  it  did  return  thither  ! — and  he 
then  observed,  with  astonishment,  how  much 
the  reproving  grace  of  God  had  gradually  with- 
drawn itself  from  his  heart.  Sinful  sensual 
impulses,  long  ago  extinguished,  already  began 
to  show  themselves  faintly  in  his  heart,  and 
the  inward  peace  of  God  in  his  soul  had  become 
a  distant  glimmer.  The  good  Shepherd  re- 
stored him,  and  led  him  again  into  the  right 
way  ;  the  sequel  of  this  history  shows  the 
means  used  for  this  purpose. 

This  aberration,  however,  was  of  utility  to 
Stilling,  in  causing  him  to  examine  more  strict- 
ly the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement ;  and  he  then 
apprehended  it  so  firmly  that  no  power  can  ever 
deprive  him  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  following  year,  in  the  winter  of  1789,  the 
reigning  Countess  of  Stollberg  Wernigerode 
wrote  to  Stiliing  to  visit  her  during  the  Easter 
vacation.  He  answered  that  he  could  not  take 
the  journey  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  visit ;  but 
as  soon  as  there  were  any  blind  people  there,  to 
whom  he  could  be  serviceable,  he  would  come. 
This  caused  the  reigning  Count  to  make  it 
known  throughout  his  territory,  that  an  oculist 
would  visit  him,  and  he  that  desired  his  assist- 
ance should  come  to  the  castle  of  Wernigerode 
in  the  passion-week.  This  excellent  arrange- 
ment occasioned  the  ridiculous  report  that  the 
Count  of  Wernigerode  had  ordered  all  the  blind 
people  in  his  dominions  to  appear  in  the  passion- 
week  at  his  castle,  on  pain  of  ten  rix-dollars 
fine,  in  order  to  be  operated  upon. 

On  receiving  the  intelligence  that  blind  peo- 
ple would  be  there,  Stilling  set  out  on  his  jour- 
ney on  Tuesday  in  the  passion-week,  on  horse- 
back. The  youthful  spring  was  in  full  activity  ; 
the  shrubs  and  bushes  were  every  where  un- 
folding their  leaves,  and  the  fecundity  of  nature 
filled  all  things  with  delight.  Stilling  had,  from 
his  childhood,  always  sympathized  with  nature  ; 
he  therefore  felt  highly  delighted  on  this  journey. 
During  the  whole  way,  nothing  struck  him 
more  than  the  difference  between  Osterrode  at 
the  foot  of  the  Harz,  and  Clausthal  on  its  sum- 
mit ;  at  the  former,  the  spring  was  blooming ; 
at  the  latter,  only  two  leagues  distant,  every 
thing  was  stiff  with  ice,  cold,  and  snow,  which 
lay  at  least  eight  feet  deep. 

On  Good  Friday  evening  Stilling  arrived  at 
the  castle  of  Wernigerode,  and  was  received 
with  uncommon  kindness  and  affection  by  the 
family  of  the  Count.  Here  he  found  eleven  per- 
sons blind  of  the  cataract,  who  were  quartered 
at  the  castle  and  fed  from  the  kitchen.  Stilling 
performed  the  operation  upon  them  on  Easter 
Sunday  morning,  before  the  service  at  church, 
and  the  surgeon  to  the  Count  took  charge  of 
the  binding-up. 

Amongst  these  blind  people  was  a  young  wo- 
man of  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  who  had  al- 
most perished  in  the  snow,  on  her  return  home 
from  Andreasberg  to  llsenburg.  on  the  side  of 
the  Brocken  ;  the  snow  fell  so  thick  and  deep 


that  at  length  it  went  over  her  head,  and  she 
could  proceed  no  further ;  she  was  found,  after 
lying  twenty-four  hours  in  quiet  stupefaction. 
This  unfortunate  occurrence  had  injured  her 
health  no  otherwise,  than  by  leaving  her  per- 
fectly blind  of  the  cataract ;  she  now  obtained 
her  sight  again. 

An  old  man  and  his  aged  sister  were  also 
amongst  the  number.  Both  of  them  had  had 
the  cataract  for  a  series  of  years,  and  had  not 
seen  each  other  for  at  least  twenty  years. 
When  they  were  both  cured,  and  came  together 
again,  their  first  sensation  was  astonishment  at 
each  other,  and  wonder  at  their  aged  appear- 
ance. 

The  days  which  Stilling^iere  spent,  as  in  the 
precincts  of  heaven,  will  remain  ever  memora- 
ble to  him.  A  week  after  Easter  he  set  out 
again  for  Marburg. 

A  few  weeks  after  this,  the  worthy  and  no- 
ble family  of  Wernigerode  passed  through  Mar- 
burg, on  their  way  to  Switzerland.  Stilling  and 
Selma  were  visited  by  them ;  and  on  this  occa- 
sion the  Count  expressed  his  intention  of  being 
with  him  again,  with  his  fellow-travellers,  on 
the  12th  of  September  following,  and  that  he 
would  then  celebrate  his  birth-day  with  him. 
The  nobleman  kept  his  word  ;  on  the  12th  of 
September,  which  was  Stilling's  fiftieth  birth- 
day, the  whole  company  again  arrived  safe, 
well,  and  delighted,  in  Marburg. 

A  good  friend  in  the  suite  of  the  Count  had 
given  Selma  a  hint  of  it  a  few  days  before.  She 
had,  therefore,  prepared  a  large  supper  in  the 
evening,  to  which  Raschmann,  with  his  young 
nobleman,  and  other  worthy  Marburg  people, 
were  invited.  I  scarcely  need  mention  that  the 
family  of  the  Coings  were  not  forgotten  on  this 
occasion.  Never  had  Stilling's  birth-day  been 
celebrated  in  such  a  manner  before.  His  lec- 
turer's chair  was  illuminated,  and  a  speech  from 
Raschmann  heightened  the  solemnity.  It  was, 
however,  remarkable,  that  the  jubilee*  of  Stil- 
ling's life  was  solemnized  in  such  a  manner, 
without  any  one  thinking  that  this  was  just  his 
fiftieth  birth-day  ;  the  whole  happened  natural- 
ly ; — it  afterwards  occurred  to  Stilling,  and  it 
then  was  evident,  that  that  evening  was  a  con- 
secration to  a  new  epoch  in  his  life. 

Soon  «fterwards,  in  the  autumn  of  1789,  the 
vacation  commenced,  in  which  Stilling  took  a 
journey  into  the  province  of  Darmstadt,  and 
from  thence  to  Neuwied,  in  order  to  assist  the 
blind.  Raschmann,  his  two  young  pupils,  and 
Selma,  accompanied  him  to  Frankfort ;  he  then 
travelled  to  Rüsselsheim  on  the  Maine,  where 
he  couched  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sartorius's  lady,  and 
spent  nine  agreeable  days  in  this  religious  fami- 
ly. This  was  the  place  where  Stilling  with 
respect  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  caught 
himself  on  the  pale  horse  ; — Sartorius  was  one 
of  the  Halle  school,  or  admirers  of  Franke,  and 
spoke  with  Stilling  on  the  truths  of  religion  in 
his  style.  The  conversation  was  chiefly  upon 
the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement  and  imputed  t 

*The  Germans  pay  much  more  attention  to  the  observ- 
ance of  birth-days,  anniversaries,  &c.,  than  is  customary 
in  this  country,  and  particularly  when  a  space  of  fifty 
years  has  elapsed,  which  is  then  called  a  jubilee.  This 
is  also  especially  the  case  when  a  couple  hive  lived  to- 
gether fifty  years  in  the  state  of  matrimony  ;  the  ceremo- 
ny is  then  again  performed,  and  the  second  celebrationis 
called  "  the  golden  nuptials."— Note  of  the  Translator. 


128 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


righteousness  ;  without  intending  it,  he  fell  into 
a  dispute  with  the  pious  clergyman  upon  this 
subject,  and  now  discovered  how  far  he  had 
already  deviated ;  his  return,  therefore,  com- 
menced here. 

In  Darmstadt  also,  Stilling  couched  several 
persons  who  were  suffering  from  the  cataract ; 
and  there  he  met  with  a  man  who,  up  to  that 
time,  was  the  only  one  he  had  found  laboring 
under  that  disease,  who  was  willing  to  remain 
blind  for  the  honor  of  God  ;  for,  on  being  in- 
formed of  Stilling's  arrival,  and  told  that,  with 
the  help  of  God,  he  might  now  regain  his  sight, 
he  replied,  very  resignedly,  "  The  Lord  has  laid 
this  cross  upon  me,  and  I  will  bear  it  to  His 
honor  !"    What  a  mistaken  idea  ! 

From  Darmstadt,  Stilling  journeyed  to  May- 
ence,  where  Count  Maximilian  Von  Degenfeld 
at  that  time  resided.  Both  were  desirous  of 
travelling  together  to  Neuwied.  In  the  com- 
pany of  this  nobleman  he  visited  Mr.  Von  Düne- 
wald, celebrated  for  his  peculiar  musical  instru- 
ment ;  they  viewed  his  pretty  garden,  and  then 
saw  and  heard  the  above-mentioned  instrument, 
on  which  the  proprietor  played  them  a  whole 
symphony,  with  all  the  accompanying  instru- 
ments, very  naturally  and  admirably.  I  know 
not  what  became  of  this  instrument  in  the  wars, 
and  whether  it  be  not  for  ever  untuned. 

The  next  morning  they  sailed  down  the  Rhine 
in  a  covered  barge.  The  voyage  was  this  time 
more  prosperous  than  in  the  year  1770,  when 
the  yacht  upset  on  its  passage  to  Strasburg ;  or 
in  1771,  on  the  journey  home,  when  Stilling 
took  the  same  trip  in  the  evening,  in  a  three- 
boarded  boat,  and  saved  himself  with  his  com- 
panion on  board  a  barge.  It  was  a  beautiful 
morning  in  autumn,  and  the  purple  dawn  swell- 
ed the  sails  of  the  barge  in  such  a  manner  that 
they  performed  the  six  leagues,  from  Mayence 
to  Bingen,  in  three  hours.  This  water  excur- 
sion is  celebrated  far  and  wide  for  its  romantic 
prospects ;  but  will  never  be  forgotten  by  Stil- 
ling, on  account  of  the  unfortunate  accidents 
above-mentioned.  At  four  in  the  afternoon  they 
arrived  at  Neuwied,  where  they  met  Rasch- 
mann,  with  the  young  Counts,  and  the  present 
vice-chancellor  of  the  university,  at  that  time 
professor  Erxleben.  Stilling  took  up  his  quar- 
ters with  this  friend  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ming's  ; 
the  rest  were  lodged  in  part  at  the  castle. 

This  journey  of  Stilling's  to  Neuwied  is  re- 
markable in  his  history,  from  his  having  for  the 
first  time  become  acquainted  with  a  Moravian 
church  in  that  place,  and  attended  once  at  their 
Sunday's  worship,  when  Brother  du  Vernoy 
preached  an  excellent  sermon.  The  whole 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  Stilling,  and 
brought  him  into  closer  contact  with  the  Mora- 
vians ;  to  which  Raschmann  also  contributed 
much,  for  although  he  widely  differed  from 
them  in  his  religious  sentiments,  yet  he  spoke 
of  them  with  much  esteem  and  enthusiasm. 
Stilling  had  always  been  well  disposed  towards 
,  the  Moravians,  although  he  had  many  prejudices 
against  them,  for  he  had  hitherto  associated 
solely  with  "awakened"  people,  who  had  much 
to  object  to  the  Moravians,  and  he  had  pre- 
viously had  no  opportunity  of  examining  for 
himself.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  they  were 
very  estimable  in  his  opinion,  on  account  of 
their  missionary  institutions 


The  then  reigning  Prince,  Johann  Frederick 
Alexander,  famous  for  his  wisdom  and  maxims 
of  tolerance,  and  who  was  far  advanced  in  years, 
was  at  that  time  with  his  consort  at  his  coun- 
try-seat, Monrepos,  which  is  two  leagues  dis- 
tant from  the  town,  and  lies  on  the  summit  of  a 
hill,  up  the  valley,  from  whence  there  is  an  in- 
comparable prospect.  One  beautiful  day  he 
sent  his  equipage  to  fetch  the  two  Marburg  pro- 
fessors, Erxleben  and  Stilling,  who  dined  with 
this  princely  pair,  and  returned  in  the  evening 
to  Neuwied".  Here  arose  an  intimate  religious 
acquaintance  between  the  old  princess  and  Stil- 
ling, which  was  maintained  by  a  lively  corres- 
pondence until  her  transition  into  a  better  life. 
She  was  born  Burgravine  of  Kirchberg,  was  a 
very  pious  and  intelligent  lady,  and  Stilling  re- 
joices at  the  prospect  of  her  welcoming  him  in 
the  blissful  plains  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

After  Stilling  had  spent  a  few  days  here,  also, 
in  ministering  to  the  blind,  he  set  off  again  for 
Marburg,  in  company  with  his  friend  and  col- 
league, Erxleben. 

At  Wetzlar,  Stilling  expected  with  certainty 
to  find  a  letter  from  Selma,  but  he  found  none. 
On  his  entering  the  parsonage,  he  observed  a 
kind  of  embarrassment  in  his  friend  Machen- 
hauer and  his  lady  ;  he  immediately  asked  whe- 
ther there  was  not  a  letter  from  Selma.  "  No," 
answered  they  ;  "  Selma  is  not  well,  yet  she  is 
not  dangerously  ill ;  we  have  to  mention  this  to 
you,  with  her  kind  remembrances."  This  was 
enough  for  Stilling  ;  he  instantly  took  post- 
horses,  and  arrived  in  the  afternoon  at  Marburg. 

His  daughter  Hannah  met  him  quite  unex- 
pectedly in  the  hall ;  she  had  been  for  half  a 
year  with  Selma's  relatives  in  Swabia,  at  Kem- 
mathen  and  Wallerstein.  Sister  Sophia  Hohl- 
bach  had  shewn  her  great  kindness ;  but  she 
had  been  brought  very  low  by  a  very  vexatious 
disorder,  from  which  she  had  suffered  inexpres- 
sibly, and  looked  very  ill.  The  paternal  heart 
of  Stilling  was  rent,  and  its  wounds  bled.  From 
Hannah  he  learnt  that  her  mother  was  not  dan- 
gerously ill. 

As  he  ascended  the  stairs  he  saw  Selma,  pale 
and  altered,  standing  in  the  corner  on  the  land- 
ing-place. She  received  her  husband  with  a 
tenderly  melancholy  look,  and,  smiling  through 
tears,  she  said  "My  dear,  be  not  afraid  ! — there 
is  nothing  the  matter  with  me."  This  tranquil- 
lized him,  and  he  went  with  her  into  the  room. 

Selma  had  suffered  much  in  her  confinement 
in  the  spring,  and  Stilling  believed  that  her  pres- 
ent indisposition  arose  from  the  same  cause. 
She  did  indeed  recover;  but  a  declaration  fol- 
lowed on  her  part  which  plunged  his  soul,  wea- 
ried by  so  many  tedious  and  painful  sufferings, 
into  a  profound  melancholy.  Soon  after  his  re- 
turn from  Neuwied,  whilst  sitting  on  the  sofa 
with  Selma,  she  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
said,  "  Dear  husband,  listen  to  me  calmly,  and 
be  not  melancholy  !  I  know  for  a  certainty  that 
I  shall  die  in  this  confinement.  I  am  no  longer 
fit  to  accompany  you  through  life.  I  have  ful- 
filled that  for  which  God  gave  me  to  you ;  but 
in  future  I  should  be  unsuitable  for  the  situation 
in  which  you  are  placed.  Now,  if  you  desire 
that  I  should  pass  the  rest  of  my  time  quietly, 
and  then  die  cheerfully,  you  must  promise  me 
that  you  will  marry  my  friend  Eliza  Coing  ;  she 
will  be  more  suitable  tor  you  than  I,  and  I  know 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


129 


that  she  will  be  a  good  mother  for  my  children, 
and  an  excellent  consort  for  you.  Now,  for 
once  place  yourself  above  what  is  termed  deco- 
rum, and  promise  me  this  !  Do,  my  dear, 
promise  it  me !"  The  pleading  look  which 
beamed  from  her  fine  blue  eyes  was  inde- 
scribable. 

My  readers  may  judge  for  themselves  how 
Stilling  felt  at  that  moment.  That  he  could  not 
possibly  fulfil  her  wish,  and  promise  her  that  he 
would  marry  Eliza  after  her  death,  may  be  easi- 
ly supposed  ;  however,  he  recovered  himself, 
and  replied,  "  My  dear,  you  well  know  that  you 
have  foreboded  your  death  in  every  such  times, 
and  yet  you  have  always  come  safely  through. 
I  trust  it  will  also  be  the  case  this  time ;  and 
then  consider  duly,  whether  it  is  possible  to 
promise  what  you  require  of  me ;  for  it  is  op- 
posed to  every  thing  that  can  be  even  called  pro- 
priety." Selma  looked  embarrassedly  around 
-her,  and  replied,  "  It  is,  however,  grievous  that 
you  cannot  place  yourself  above  all  this,  in  or- 
der to  satisfy  me  !  I  know  for  a  certainty  that 
I  shall  die  ;  it  is  now  very  different  with  me  to 
what  it  has  been  before." 

Although  Stilling  did  not  place  any  strong 
faith  in  this  presentiment  of  death,  yet  his  mind 
was  oppressed  by  a  deep  and  foreboding  melan- 
choly, and  he  took  the  resolution,  from  that 
*  time,  daily  to  pray  specially  for  Selma's  life, 
which  he  fulfilled. 

During  the  whole  of  the  winter,  Selma  pre- 
pared for  her  death,  as  for  a  long  journey.  It 
may  be  supposed  how  her  husband  felt  on  the 
occasion  ;  she  sought  to  arrange  every  thing, 
and  did  it  all  with  cheerfulness  and  mental 
serenity.  At  the  same  time,  she  was  constant- 
ly seeking  to  induce  her  husband  to  marry  Eliza, 
and  to  make  him  promise  her  to  do  so.  In  this 
she  went  incredibly  far  ;  for  one  evening  it 
happened  that  Stilling,  Selma,  and  Eliza,  were 
sitting  quite  alone  at  a  round  table,  and  supping 
together  ;  when  they  had  nearly  finished,  Selma 
looked  longingly  at  Eliza,  and  said,  "  Dear 
Eliza,  you  will  marry  my  husband  when  I  am 
dead,  will  you  not?"  The  situation  in  which 
Stilling  and  Eliza  felt  themselves  placed  by  this 
speech,  is  indescribable.  Eliza  blushed  deeply, 
and  said,  "  Do  not  speak  so  !  God  preserve  us 
from  such  an  event !" — and  Stilling  gave  her  a 
kind  reproof  for  her  improper  behaviour.  When 
she  found  that  she  could  not  gain  her  point  with 
her  husband,  she  applied  to  good  friends,  who 
she  knew  had  much  influence  with  Stilling,  and 
entreated  them  suppliantly,  to  take  care  that 
after  her  death  her  wishes  might  be  fulfilled. 

In  the  spring  of  1790,  the  important  period 
of  Selma's  confinement  gradually  approached. 
Stilling's  prayers  for  her  life  became  more  fer- 
vent, but  she  continued  always  calm.  On  the 
eleventh  of  May,  she  was  happily  delivered  of  a 
son,  and  was  well,  according  to  circumstances. 
Stilling  felt  very  happy,  artd  gave  God  thanks  ; 
he  then  tenderly  reproached  the  dear  invalid  for 
her  presentiment ;  but  she  looked  at  him  seri- 
ously, and  said  very  impressively,  "  Dear  hus- 
'  band,  all  is  not  over  yet."  For  five  days  she 
was  very  well,  suckled  her  child,  and  was  cheer- 
ful ;  but  on  the  sixth,  an  eruption  broke  out, 
she  grew  very  ill,  and  Stilling  became  greatly 
alarmed.  Her  friend  Eliza  came  to  wait  upon 
lier,  in  which  she  was  faithfully  assisted  by  Han- 
R 


nah.  Madame  Coing  came  also  every  day,  and 
occasionally  relieved  her  daughter. 

Stilling  had  still  hopes  of  her  recovery  ;  but, 
as  he  was  sitting  one  afternoon  alone  by  her 
bedside,  he  perceived  that  she  began  to  speak 
irrationally,  and  to  pull  and  straighten  the  bed- 
clothes. He  ran  out  into  the  open  air,  through 
the  Kenthof  gate,  and  then  through  the  beech- 
wood  about  the  castle-hill,  and  prayed  from  his 
inmost  soul,  so  that  it  might  have  penetrated 
to  the  very  highest  heaven — not  for  Selma's 
life,  for  he  did  not  expect  a  miracle,  but  for 
strength  for  his  weary  soul,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  bear  this  severe  stroke. 

This  prayer  was  heard ;  he  returned  home 
tranquillized ;  the  peace  of  God  reigned  in  his 
breast ;  he  had  offered  up  this  great  sacrifice  to 
the  Lord,  who  had  graciously  accepted  it.  After 
that  time,  he  only  saw  Selrna  twice  for  a  few 
moments ;  for  his  physical  nature  suffered  too 
much,  and  it  was  apprehended  she  could  not 
hear  it.  He  therefore  suffered  himself  to  be  ad- 
vised, and  kept  at  a  distance. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day,  he 
went  again  to  her ; — she  had  already  a  locked 
jaw  ;  Eliza  was  reposing  upon  the  sofa  ;  Selma 
lifted  up  her  half-closed  eyes,  looked  wistfully 
at  her  husband,  and  then  beckoned  to  Eliza. 
Stilling  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  departed. 

The  next  morning  he  went  to  her  bed  once 
more  ; — he  will  never  forget  the  sight !  the 
dawn  of  eternity  beamed  on  her  countenance. 
"  Is  it  well  with  you  !"  asked  he.  She  audibly 
whispered  through  her  closely-fastened  teeth, 
"  O  yes  !"  Stilling  tottered  away,  and  saw  her 
no  more ;  for  strong  as  his  spirit  was,  yet  his 
physical  nature  and  his  heart  were  shaken. 
Nor  could  Eliza  bear  to  see  her  friend  expire ; 
but  Madame  Coing  closed  her  eyes.  She  de- 
parted this  life  the  following  night,  on  the  23d 
of  May,  at  one  o'clock.  They  came  weeping 
to  Stilling's  bed  to  inform  him  of  it :  "  Lord, 
thy  will  be  done  !"  was  his  reply. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Selma  dead  ! — the  woman  of  whom  Stilling 
was  so  proud,  dead ! — that  is  saying  much ! 
Though  profound  peace  reigned  in  his  soul,  still 
his  state  and  condition  were  indescribable  ; — his 
frame  was  dreadfully  shaken ;  the  spasmodic 
complatnt  which  continually  tormented  him,  had 
already  excited  his  nervous  system  to  a  high 
degree,  and  this  stroke  might  have  entirely 
ruined  it,  if  the  paternal  goodness  of  God  had 
not  supported  him  ;  or,  to  speak  in  fashionable 
terms,  if  he  had  not  had  so  strong  a  constitution. 
Death  and  silence  now  environed  him.  At 
Christina's  departure,  he  had  been  so  much  pre- 
pared, by  previous  wearisome  sufferings,  that  it 
was  a  relief,  an  alleviation  to  him  ;  but  now  it 
was  quite  different. 

That  Selma  was  in  the  right  when  she  said 
she  was  no  longer  suitable  for  his  mode  of  life, 
he  began,  indeed,  clearly  to  see,  and  in  the 
sequel,  found  it  true ;  but  still  her  departure 
was  heart-rending  and  dreadful  to  him  ; — she 
had  been  much  to  him  ;  and  had  been  a  striking 
instrument  in  the  hand  of  his  heavenly  Guide, 
with  reference  to  him :  but  now  she  was  no 
more. 


130  HEINRICH 

Stilling,  when  he  married  Selma,  had  never 
been  amongst  people  of  high  rank.  Much  still 
adhered  to  him  from  his  parentage  and  educa- 
tion ;  in  his  whole  life  and  deportment,  gait  and 
gestures,  eating  and  drinking,  and  in  his  mode 
of  address,  especially  in  his  intercourse  with 
people  of  rank,  he  conducted  himself  so  that  his 
low  origin  was  immediately  observed;  he  al- 
ways did  either  too  much  or  too  little  in  a 
thing.  Selma,  who  was  an  accomplished  lady, 
polished  all  this  away  completely ;  at  least,  the 
observation  was  never  afterwards  made  that 
Stilling  was  deficient  in  good  breeding  ;  for  it 
afterwards  appeared  that  he  was  destined  to 
associate  with  persons  of  the  highest  class. 

But  she  was,  particularly  with  reference  to 
his  debts,  a  helping  angel  sent  from  God.  She 
was  an  excellent  housekeeper  ; — with  a  very 
moderate  income,  in  Läutern  and  Heidelberg, 
she  had  liquidated  above  two  thousand  guilders 
of  debt,  by  which  all  the  creditors  were  so  paci- 
fied that  the  rest  were  content,  and  willingly 
waited.  But  the  chief  thing  was,  that  immedi- 
ately after  she  had  married  Stilling,  she  tran- 
quillized his  soul,  which  had  been  tormented  by 
the  miserable,  unfeeling,  and  mercenary  spirit 
of  unmerciful  creditors,  in  such  a  manner,  that 
he  knew  not  what  to  think  of  it ;  from  a  storm, 
which  threatened  him  every  moment  with  ship- 
wreck, she  placed  him  on  dry  land.  "  Attend 
to  your  vocation,"  said  she  ;  "  trouble  yourself 
about  nothing,  and  commit  the  care  to  me ;" 
and  she  faithfully  kept  her  word.  Selma  had 
been,  therefore,  during  the  nine  years  in  which 
they  lived  together  in  the  marriage  state,  a 
continual  means  of  happiness  to  Stilling. 

When  she  declared  that  she  was  no  longer  a 
suitable  companion  for  Stilling,  though  this 
declaration  was  perfectly  correct,  yet  I  must 
entreat  every  reader  not  to  think  any  evil  on 
that  account,  nor  to  imagine  any.  Selma  pos- 
sessed an  extremely  noble  character  ;  she  was 
an  excellent  wife  ;  but  there  are  situations  and 
circumstances  for  which  even  the  most  excel- 
lent of  mankind  are  unsuitable. 

Stilling's  guidance  was  always  systematic ; 
or  rather,  the  plan  according  to  which  he  was 
led,  was  always  so  manifest,  that  every  acute 
observer  perceived  it.  Raschmann  also  saw 
through  it ; — he  often  regarded  Stilling  with  as- 
tonishment, and  said,  "  Providence  must  have 
something  peculiar  in  view  with  reference  to 
you,  for  all  the  trifling  as  well  as  important 
events  which  have  befallen  you,  tend  to  some 
great  object,  which  still  lies  hidden  in  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  future."  Stilling  likewise  felt  this 
perceptibly,  and  it  humbled  him  in  the  dust ; 
but  it  gave  him  also  courage  and  boldness  to 
struggle  forward  in  the  path  of  conflict ;  and  it 
may  easily  be  supposed  how  much  such  a  guid- 
ance promotes  true  Christianity,  and  faith  in  the 
Redeemer  of  the  world. 

Selma  lay  a  lifeless  corpse.  Hannah,  a  girl 
of  sixteen  years  and  a  half  old,  now  seized  with 
courage  and  resolution  the  helm  of  the  house- 
keeping, in  which  she  was  assisted  by  a  worthy 
and  faithful  maid-servant,  whom  Selma  had  en- 
gaged in  Läutern,  and  who,  under  her  instruc- 
tions, had  become  an  able  housekeeper. 

Of  six  children,  which  Selma  had  borne,  three 
were  still  alive;  Lisette,  Caroline,  and  the 
orphan  suckling  which  she  had  forsaken.  Lis- 


STILLING. 

ette  was  four  years  and  a  quarter,  and  Caroline- 
two  years  and  a  half  old.  Selma  herself  had 
not  completed  her  thirtieth  year  when  she  died, 
and  yet  had  accomplished  so  much.  It  is  sin- 
gular that  in  her  bridal  days  she  said  to  Stilling, 
"  You  will  not  have  me  long,  for  I  shall  not  live 
to  be  thirty  years  old ;  a  remarkable  man  in 
Dettingen  told  me  so." 

However  faithful  and  well  intentioned  Han- 
nah was,  yet  she  was  not  at  that  time  capable 
of  undertaking  the  bringing-up  of  her  little  sis- 
ters ;  but  the  departed  saint  had  already  pro- 
vided for  this  ;  for  she  had  arranged  that  Lisette 
should  be  taken  to  her  friend  Madame  Mieg,  at 
Heidelberg,  until  her  father  had  married  again, 
and  Caroline  was  to  remain,  for  the  same  length 
of  time,  with  another  good  friend,  who  lived 
some  miles  distant  from  Marburg.  The  first 
arrangement  was  carried  into  effect  some  weeks 
after.  Stilling  sent  her,  with  a  maid-servant, 
to  Frankfort,  to  the  house  of  his  friend  Kraft, 
whence  she  was  fetched  by  Madame  Mieg ;  but 
Madame  Coing  took  Caroline,  for  she  said,  "  It 
was  hard  that  two  children  should  be  removed, 
both  at  once,  from  their  deeply-sorrowing  pa- 
rent, and-  to  such  a  distance."  Stilling  was 
satisfied  with  this,  for  he  was  convinced  Selma 
would  have  committed  both  the  children  to 
Eliza,  if  it  had  not  been  contrary  to  decorum,€ 
which  now  enjoined  him  to  withdraw  himself' 
a  little  from  the  family  of  the  Coings,  in  whose 
place  another  friend  pressed  forward  with  his  aid. 

The  present  privy-counsellor  and  government- 
director  Riess,  of  Marburg,  was  at  that  time 
government-advocate,  and  commissary  for  the 
management  of  the  University  estates,  to  which 
Stilling  had  been  also  appointed  treasurer  from 
the  beginning ;  both  knew  and  loved  each 
other.  Scarcely,  therefore,  had  Selma  expired, 
when  Reiss  came  and  undertook  all  the  arrange- 
ments which  circumstances  required  ;  whilst 
Stilling  was  taken  home  to  his  house,  where  he 
continued  till  all  was  over.  His  good  consort  im- 
mediately took  away  the  little  suckling,  and 
provided  a  nurse  for  it,  whilst  Riess  gave  the 
necessary  orders  for  the  interment  of  the  corpse, 
so  that  Stilling  had  no  occasion  whatever  to- 
trouble  himself  in  the  least.  The  child  was 
baptized  in  Riess's  house ;  who  with  Coing, 
Raschmann,  and  the  Counts,  who  offered  them- 
selves, were  the  sponsors.  Such  actions  will 
be  eventually  highly  esteemed  :  Riess  and  Still- 
ing are  friends  for  eternity,  and  there  it  will  be 
easier  to  speak  of  such  things  than  here. 

The  first  thing  that  Stilling  undertook  for  his 
consolation,  was  to  send  for  his  aged  father,. 
Wilhelm  Stilling.  The  venerable  old  man,  now 
seventy- four  years  of  age,  and  severely  tried  in 
the  school  of  affliction,  came  without  delay  ;  his 
peace  of  soul  and  resignation  imparted  consola- 
tion also  to  his  son,  who  resembles  him.  He 
remained  with  him  about  a  fortnight ;  during 
which  time  Stillmg'Vegained  in  some  measure 
his  serenity,  to  which  also  Selma's  last  will  con- 
tributed much.  That  he  must  marry  again  was 
a  matter  of  course,  for  he  required  some  one  to 
bring  up  his  children,  and  keep  his  house  ;  be- 
cause it  was  not  proper  that  Hannah  should 
trifle  away  her  prospects  of  happiness  for  the 
sake  of  her  father's  housekeeping.  How  bene- 
ficial therefore  it  was  that  the  legitimate  pos- 
sessor of  his  heart  should  have  appointed  her 


STILLING'S  YEARS  OF  TUITION. 


131 


successor,  and  that  in  such  a  manner  that  Still- 
ing himself  would  have  made  no  other  choice  ! 

He  who  has  not  experienced  it,  cannot  be- 
lieve  how  consolatory  it  is  to  a  widower  to 
know  that  his  departed  consort  approved  of  his 
choice  ; — and  here  was  more  than  approbation. 

After  the  period  had  elapsed  which  decorum 
determines  and  the  laws  prescribe,  Stilling  paid 
his  addresses  to  Eliza  ;  whose  parents,  as  well 
as  herself,  made  him  again  happy  by  their  affec- 
tionate consent.  The  gracious  good  pleasure 
of  God  in  this  union,  the  accomplished  will  of 
the  departed  Selma,  and  the  kind  wishes  and 
approbation  of  all  good  men,  imparted  to  his 
soul  a  peace  which  cannot  be  described.  From 
that  time,  Eliza  undertook  Caroline's  education  ; 
she  also  visited  Hannah,  and  assisted  her  with 
her  advice  ;  and  Stilling  had  now  a  friend  with 
whom  he  could  converse  with  unlimited  confi- 
dence. 

The  twelfth  of  September,  which  had  been 
so  brilliantly  celebrated  the  previous  autumn, 
now  again  approached.  Stilling  had,  since  then, 
struggled  through  a  year  of  painful  suffering. 
The  hereditary  Prince  of  Hesse  was  at  that 
time  studying  in  Marburg,  to  whom  Stilling 
gave  instruction  four  times  a  week  ;  the  prince 
invited  him  to  dinner  on  his  birth-day,  together 
with  Father  Coing  ;  and  his  natal  day  was  cele- 
brated in  the  evening  at  the  house  of  the  latter. 

The  nineteenth  of  November,  the  day  of  the 
holy  Elizabeth,  had  always  been  observed  in  the 
family  of  the  Duisings,  the  ladies  of  which  also 
generally  bore  that  name.  With  respect  to 
Eliza,  it  was  likewise  particularly  remarkable, 
because  she  is  properly  thrice  called  Elizabeth  ; 
she  was  born  on  the  9th  of  May,  1756,  and  had 
three  such  sponsors  at  her  baptism  as  probably 
few  persons  have  had.  These  were,  her  grand- 
mother Duising ;  the  mother  of  the  latter, 
Vulteius  ;  and  her  mother,  consequently  Eliza's 
great-great-grandmother,  Madame  Von  Hamm  ; 
— these  three  matrons,  her  grandmother,  great- 
grandmother,  and  great  -  great  -  grandmother, 
were  present  at  the  baptism  ;  and  the  latter, 
Madame  Von  Hamm,  presided  at  the  christen- 
ing-dinner. All  the  three  ladies  bore  the  name 
of  Elizabeth.  This  "  Elizabeth-day"  was  fixed 
for  Stilling  and  Eliza's  nuptials.  He  first  read 
his  four  lectures,  instructed  the  prince  for  an 
hour,  and  then  proceeded  to  the  house  of  the 
Coings,  where  the  marriage-ceremony  was  to 
be  performed.  The  Elector  of  Hesse  expressed 
his  high  approbation  of  this  fidelity  to  the  duties 
of  his  office,  although  at  the  same  time  he  re- 
proached him  severely  for  marrying  again  so 
soon. 

Eliza's  parents  had  invited  several  friends  to 
the  marriage-supper  ;  and  the  reformed  minis- 
ter, Schlarbaum,  a  sure  and  tried  friend  of  Still- 
ing, performed  the  ceremony.  He  and  his 
family  were  very  beneficial  companions  to  Still- 
ing on  his  path,  during  his  residence  at  Mar- 
burg. 

Between  the  ceremony  and  the  supper,  Still- 
ing played  on  the  piano-forte  the  following 
verses  ;  and  Hannah  sang  them  with  her  silver 
voice : 

"Ascend,  my  spirit,  to  the  throne 
Of  Him  who  rules  above  ; 
Who  visibly  hath  led  thee  on, 
With  all  a  parent's  love. 


Father  of  all  created  things, 

In  air,  or  earth,  or  sky, 
To  Thee  my  heart  its  tribute  brings, 

Thou  Author  of  its  joy  ! 
The  radiance  of  the  morning  light 

Bearn'd  on  my  flowery  way, 
And  with  a  flood  of  new  delight 

Thou  crovvn'dst  each  passing  day. 
Selma,  thy  gift,  with  aiding  hand, 

Walk'd  lovely  at  my  side  ; 
And  all  my  griefs,  at  her  command, 

Consumed  away  and  died  ; 
When  suddenly,  the  gloom  of  night 

Obscured  my  radiant  morn ; 
Thy  lightnings  fill'd  my  soul  with  fright, 

And  left  me  quite  forlorn. 
The  corpse  of  Selma  sank  in  dust : 

Her  spirit  burst  its  clod  ; 
'Be  strong,'  it  said,  'believe  and  trust; 

And  then  it  soar'd  to  God  ; — 
And  whisper'd,  as  it  disappear'd, 

'  Be  now  Eliza  thine  ; 
For  thou  shalt  by  her  love  be  cheer'd, 

E'en  as  thou  wast  with  mine. 
A  sacred  stillness  reign'd  around, 

And  I  was  left  alone; 
I  cried,  though  plunged  in  grief  profound, 

'Thy  will,  O  God  be  done !' 
Again,  thy  kind,  benignant  eye 

Bearn'd  on  me  graciously ; 
And  she  descended  from  the  sky, 

Whom  Selma  gave  to  me. 
Now,  Lord,  before  thy  throne  we  bow ; 

Oh  may  we  happy  be  ! 
And  kindly  make  our  cup  o'erflow 

With  true  felicity. 
The  seeds  of  pure  beneficence 

Which  we  in  hope  would  sow, — 
A  gracious  shower,  O  Lord,  dispense, 

And  cause  the  seed  to  grow. 
O  let  Eliza,  at  my  side, 

Thy  richest  blessings  see  ; 
With  me  the  day  of  grief  abide, 

And  bend  the  suppliant  knee. 
Then  listen  to  the  anxious  sighs 

Which  from  our  hearts  ascend, 
That  long  to  gain  perfection's  prize. 

And  ever  upwards  tend. 
Father  !  thus  to  our  journey's  end 

Conduct  us  hand  in  harrd  ; 
Until  before  thy  face  we  bend, 

Home,  in  our  native  land  !" 

The  evening  was  spent  cheerfully  and  happi- 
ly ;  and  a  new  course  of  life  now  commenced, 
which  gradually  distinguished  itself  from  every 
former  period,  and  brought  Stilling  nearer  to 
his  peculiar  destiny.  Eliza  cheerfully  com- 
menced her  new  sphere  of  action,  in  confidence 
in  God;  and  soon  found,  what  a  friend  had 
already  observed  to  her,  that  it  was  no  easy 
matter  to  tread  the  same  path  with  Stilling. 
She  has  hitherto  faithfully  and  firmly  accompa- 
nied him  on  his  pilgrimage  ;  and  has  often  and 
variously  made  it  evident  that  she  understands 
how  to  be  Stilling's  consort. 

Some  weeks  before  Stilling's  marriage,  Rasch- 
mann  and  the  young  Counts,  his  pupils,  left 
Marburg.  He  was  a  comet,  which  accompa- 
nied the  planet  Stilling  for  a  period  on  its 
course,  and  made  the  latter  feel  the  influence  of 
its  atmosphere. 

He  had  certainly,  in  one  respect,  operated 
prejudicially  on  Stilling,  as  before  mentioned  ; 
but  this  impression  soon  vanished  in  the  new 
family  circle,  and  he  became  afterwards,  through 
other  cooperating  causes,  still  more  firmly 
grounded  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement 
than  before.  But  on  the  other  hand,  Rasch- 
mann  belonged,  in  a  remarkable  manner,  to  the 
instruments  of  Stilling's  improvement ;  through 


132 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


him  he  learnt  great,  mysterious,  and  important 
things ;  things  which  were  of  an  extensive  and 
comprehensive  nature.  That  which  Barruel  and 
ihc  triumph  of  philosophy  intend  to  relate,  and  re- 
late correctly,  hi  the  main,  but  erroneously  in  the 
detail,  was  now  made  known  to  him. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  Rasch- 
mann  purposely  instructed  Stilling  in  all  this. 
The  truth  was,  he  was  very  talkative  ;  so  that 
when  he  had  invited  his  friends  to  see  him, 
some  morsel  or  other  continually  made  its  ap- 
pearance ;  and,  as  Stilling  had  a  good  memory, 
he  retained  correctly  every  thing  he  heard,  and 
thus  learnt,  in  the  three  years  which  Rasch- 
mann  spent  at  Marburg,  the  whole  connexion 
of  that  system  of  philosophy  which  has  subse- 
quently produced  such  great  and  dreadful  phe- 
nomena in  the  ecclesiastical  and  political  hori- 
zon ;  and  when  he  connected  that  which  he 
himself  had  learnt  and  read,  with  the  frag- 
ments above-mentioned,  and  rectified  one  by 
the  other,  a  correct  and  true  whole  resulted  from 
it.  How  useful  and  necessary  this  knowledge 
was,  is  still,  and  will  be  in  future  to  Stilling, 
may  be  judged  of  by  those  who  have  a  clear 
insyght  into  the  object  of  their  existence. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  first  weeks  after  Eliza's  marriage  were 
pleasant,  and  her  path  was  strewed  with  flow- 
ers. Stilling  had  also  no  other  affliction  but  his 
tormenting  spasmodic  attack;  but  a  fortnight 
before  Christmas,  his  constant  house-friend 
again  appeared  in  a  very  serious  manner. 

Hannah,  from  her  youth  up,  had  frequently 
suffered  dreadfully  from  a  tetter  on  the  left 
cheek ;  Selma  had  employed  every  possible 
means  to  deliver  her  from  it,  and  Eliza  contin- 
ued the  attempt  with  all  zeal.  Just  at  that  time, 
there  came  a  celebrated  physician  to  Marburg, 
who  was  also  consulted,  and  he  prescribed  the 
external  application  of  the  sublimate  of  mercu- 
ry. Now,  whether  it  was  this,  or  a  predisposi- 
tion inherited  from  her  late  mother,  Christina, 
or  both  together,  that  produced  such  dreadful 
consequences,  I  know  not — Hannah  was  seized, 
about  the  time  above-mentioned,  with  the  most 
tlreadful  hysteric  fits.  These  attacks,  so  pain- 
fully exciting  to  every  beholder,  were  particu- 
larly terrific  to  Eliza  ;  who,  besides  this,  was 
in  the  family- way  ;  yet,  notwithstanding,  she 
heroically  took  courage,  and  nursed"  Hannah 
faithfully.  But  the  Lord  graciously  preserved 
"her  from  all  prejudicial  consequences. 

This  was  the  first  act  of  the  tragedy ;  the 
second  now  followed — it  was  a  severe  and  fiery 
ordeal  for  Stilling,  Eliza,  and  Hannah.  I  will 
relate  it,  for  the  warning  and  instruction  of  the 
young — yet  in  such  a  manner  that  a  certain 
family,  whom  I  much  esteem,  will  be  satisfied. 

Hannah  had  been  requested,  in  a  polite  com- 
pany, to  sing  and  play.  She  complied.  What 
can  be  more  innocent  than  this  1 — and  yet  it 
was  the  sole  occasion  of  passing  half-a-year  of 
anxious  and  painful  suffering.  A  young  man 
"who  was  studying  divinity,  and  whose  self-will 
had  never  been  broken,  whom  Hannah  had 
previously  never  seen,  nor  even  heard  of,  was 
present  on  the  occasion.    He  was  so  enchanted 


with  her  singing,  that  from  that  period,  he  em- 
ployed all — and  at  length  the  most  desperate — 
means  of  obtaining  possession  of  her.  He  first 
applied  to  Stilling  for  her  hand,  and  was  told, 
that  when  he  was  properly  provided  for,  no  ob- 
jection would  be  made,  if  he  could  gain  Han- 
nah's consent.  But  this  was  not  enough  by 
far  for  this  ardent  suitor  ;  he  insisted  upon  it 
that  the  assurance  should  be  then  given  him 
that  she  would  marry  him.  Hannah  firmly  de- 
clared that  she  could  never  love  him,  nor  mar- 
ry him,  and  that  she  had  never  given  him  the 
smallest  occasion  for  this  application.  But  all 
this  was  unavailing.  He  next  applied  to  the 
parents,  and  sought  to  prove  to  them  that  it 
was  their  duty  to  compel  their  daughter  to  mar- 
ry him  ;  and  on  his  proof  being  found  invalid, 
he  attempted  violence.  He  came  once,  unex- 
pectedly, into  Stilling's  house,  whilst  Stilling 
was  lecturing,  and  burst  into  the  room  where 
Hannah  was  ;  fortunately,  she  had  a  female 
friend  with  her, — her  father  heard  her  anxious 
cry,  and  ran  thither  with  brother  Coing,  and 
both  of  them  reproached  the  senseless  man 
most  bitterly. 

He  then  took  lodgings  at  an  inn  immediately 
opposite,  that  he  might  repeat  the  tragedy  at 
any  moment  ;  but  on  Hannah's  being  removed 
to  a  place  of  safety,  he  again  withdrew.  Ano- 
ther time,  he  made  his  appearance  unawares, 
and  acted  in  such  a  wild  and  riotous  manner 
that  Stdling  was  obliged  to  shew  him  the  door. 
He  then  ran  to  the  Coing's  house,  where  Ma- 
dame Coing  was  lying  dangerously  ill ;  but 
Eliza,  who  was  there  just  at  the  time,  with  a 
strong  arm  pushed  him  out  of  doors.  He  now 
became  desperate — was  fetched  back  from  the 
river,  into  which  he  intended  to  plunge  himself ; 
then  cast  himself  on  the  ground  before  Stilling's 
house  ;  and  was  at  length,  with  difficulty,  sent 
back  to  his  home,  which  was  some  leagues  dis- 
tant. He  afterwards  roamed  about  the  coun- 
try, and  assailed  Stilling  with  threatening  let- 
ters ;  so  that,  at  length,  he  was  compelled  to 
request  the  aid  of  the  magistrates,  and  to  pro- 
cure his  safety  in  that  manner. 

The  unhappy  and  pitiable  young  man  went 
abroad,  where  he  died  in  the  bloom  of  his  years. 
It  will  not  be  difficult  for  parents,  and  young 
people  of  both  sexes,  to  derive  due  advantage 
and  appropriate  instruction  from  this  melan- 
choly affair,  which  was  so  painful  to  Stilling 
and  his  family. 

The  good  Hannah  was  however  happily  re- 
warded for  this  fiery  trial.  In  the  village  of 
Dexbach,  in  the  province  of  Darmstadt,  five 
leagues  from  Marburg,  there  was  a  young  cler- 
gyman of  the  name  of  Schwarz,  who  lived  in 
intimate  friendship  with  Stilling,  and  being  still 
unmarried,  kept  house  with  his  excellent  mother 
and  amiable  sister.  This  pious  and  upright 
man  afterwards  rendered  himself  celebrated  by 
several  valuable  treatises,  particularly  on  "The 
Moral  Sciences,"  "  The  Religious  Teacher," 
elementary  works,  &c.  Hannah  and  his  sister 
Caroline  loved  each  other  cordially,  and  it  was 
she  who  was  with  Hannah  when  the  student 
burst  into  the  room.  It  was  this  young  lady 
also  who  took  her  to  Dexbach,  to  her  brother's 
house,  for  safety.  Through  the  wise  guidance 
of  God,  and  in  a  christian  and  becoming  man- 
ner, there  arose  between  Schwarz  and  Hannah 


STILL  IN  GS   YEARS   OF  TUITION. 


133 


a  love  which  was  acceptable  in  His  sight,  and 
which  was  crowned  with  the  consent  of  the 
parents  and  the  paternal  goodness  of  God.  In 
the  spring  of  the  year  17U2,  the  marriage  was 
solemnized  between  Schwarz  and  Hannah  in 
Stilling's  house.  She  makes  a  good  wife,  a 
good  mother  of  six  hopeful  children,  an  excel- 
lent assistant  in  her  husband's  seminary,  and 
altogether  a  worthy  woman,  who  causes  joy  to 
her  virtuous  husband  and  her  parents. 

The  unpleasant  affair  with  the  student  occur- 
red in  the  first  half  of  the  year  1791,  which  was 
also  aggravated  by  two  mournful  events.  In 
the  month  of  February  died  little  Franz,  the 
suckling  which  Selma  left  behind  her,  of  water 
in  the  head ;  and  Madame  Coing  also  now  ap- 
proached her  end.  She  had  been  in  a  weak 
state  for  some  time,  and  was  in  particular  sub- 
ject to  asthma:  By  works  of  love  which  she 
had  performed,  in  sitting  up  at  night,  she  had 
taken  cold,  and  her  illness  now  became  serious 
and  dangerous.  Stilling  visited  her  frequently 
— she  was  tranquil  and  joyful,  and  met  her  dis- 
solution with  an  indescribable  calmness  of 
soul ;  and  when  she  expressed  anxiety  respect- 
ing her  children,  Stilling  assured  her  that  they 
should  he  his,  if  their  parents  died  before  him. 

All  these  mournful  events  operated  so  preju- 
dicially on  Eliza's  health,  that  she  also  fell  ill, 
though  not  dangerously  so  ;  however,  she  was 
obliged  to  keep  her  bed,  which  pained  her  the 
more  because  she  was  unable  to  visit  her  good 
mother.  Both  the  invalids,  mother  and  daugh- 
ter, daily  interchanged  messages  ;  and  each 
comforted  the  other  with  the  idea  that  their 
case  was  not  dangerous. 

One  morning  early,  towards  the  end  of  March, 
the  melancholy  news  arrived  that  Madame  Co- 
ing had  departed  this  life.  It  was  Stilling's  lot 
to  inform  Eliza  of  it — this  was  a  painful  task, 
but  he  accomplished  it,  and  then  ran  to  her  pa- 
rents' house.  As  he  entered  the  room,  the  be- 
loved corpse  met  his  eye — she  lay  on  a  field- 
bed,  opposite  the  door — she  had  been  a  very 
handsome  woman,  and  the  long  continued  and 
tranquil  exercise  of  a  religious  life  had  ennobled 
her  features  uncommonly ;  not  hope,  but  the 
enjoyment  of  eternal  life,  beamed  upon  her 
pallid  countenance.  Father  Coing  stood  before 
the  corpse  ;  he  smiled  at  Stilling  through  his 
tears,  and  said,  "Thank  God  !  she  is  safe  with 
Him  !"  He  mourned,  but  in  a  christian  man- 
ner. There  is  no  conviction  more  pleasing,  or 
more  heart-elevating,  that  that  of  knowing  our 
dear  departed  friends  are  happy.  Father  Co- 
ing, who  celebrated  his  birth-day  about  this  time, 
had  intreated  God  for  his  dear  consort  as  a 
birth-day  gift,  but  did  not  obtain  it — Stilling  had 
prayed  half-a-year  for  Selma'slife,  but  was  also 
not  heard. 

My  dear  christian  readers,  do  not  suffer  such 
instances  to  deter  you  from  prayer  !  It  is  the 
Father's  will  that  we,  his  children,  should  ask 
Him  for  every  thing,  because  this  retains  us 
continually  in  attachment  to,  and  dependance 
upon  Him.  If  He  cannot  grant  us  that  for 
which  we  pray,  He  bestows  upon  us  something 
better  in  its  stead.  We  may  rest  assured  that 
the  Lord  hears  every  believing  prayer — we  al- 
ways obtain  something  by  it,  which  we  should 
not  have  obtained  without  praying,  and  that, 
indeed,  which  is  the  best  for  us. 


When  a  Christian  has  made  such  progress 
that  he  is  able  to  remain  continually  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God,  and  has  entirely  and  unreserved- 
ly deferred  his  own  will  to  the  only  good  will  of 
God,  he  prays  incessantly  in  his  inmost  soul. 
The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  then  makes  intercession 
for  him  with  unutterable  sighing;  and  then  he 
never  prays  in  vain,  for  the  Holy  Spirit  knows 
what  is  the  will  of  God.  Therefore  when  He 
incites  the  heart  to  pray  for  something,  He  at 
the  same  time  gives  faith  and  confidence  that 
the  prayer  may  be  heard.  The  man  prays,  and 
his  prayer  is  answered. 

Stilling  and  Eliza,  from  the  commencement 
of  their  union,  had  taken  the  resolution  of 
having  his  son  Jacob,  who  was  a  child  of  the 
first  marriage,  again  at  home.  He  was  now 
seventeen  years  old,  and  therefore  it  was  time 
he  should  begin  his  academical  course.  He 
had  hitherto  been  in  the  boarding-school  of  the 
worthy,  learned,  and  reverend  Mr.  Grimm,  at 
Schluttern,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Heilbronn, 
where  he  had  been  educated  and  prepared  for 
further  study.  Now  as  Stilling  could  only  travel 
during  the  vacation,  the  next  Easter  holidays 
were  fixed  upon  for  the  purpose  of  fetching  his 
son  :  and  Jacob  was  therefore  written  to,  to  be 
at  friend  Mieg's  in  Heidelberg,  on  a  day  appoint- 
ed, for  his  parents  would  come  thither  and  meet 
him.  They  also  determined  to  take  Lisette 
back  with  them  ;  for  Eliza  wished  to  have  all 
the  four  children  together,  in  order  to  enable 
her  to  exercise  her  maternal  duties  towards 
them  with  all  fidelity,  and  that  they  might  like- 
wise afford  a  refreshing  season  and  a  beneficial 
recreation  to  father  Coing  and  his  children  in 
their  profound  sorrow,  they  both  resolved  to 
take  these  dear  relatives  with  them  to  their 
friend  Kraft  in  Frankfort,  and  then,  on  their  re- 
turn from  Heidelberg,  take  them  back  to  Mar- 
burg. The  whole  of  this  plan  was  carried  into 
effect  precisely  in  this  manner,  during  the  Eas- 
ter holidays  in  1791. 

Soon  after  their  arrival  at  Heidelberg,  Jacob 
also  made  his  appearance.  He  was  become  a 
good  and  worthy  youth,  who  caused  joy  to  his 
parents.  He  likewise  rejoiced  to  see  them,  and 
that  he  was  at  length  about  to  live  with  them. 
But  as  it  respects  Lisette,  there  were  difficul- 
ties in  the  way.  Madame  Mieg,  who  had  no 
children,  wished  to  keep  the  girl ;  and  asserted 
also  that  her  mother,  whose  heart  was  attach- 
ed to  the  child,  might  possibly  pay  for  it  with, 
her  life  if  she  were  removed  from  her.  It 
pained  Stillling  to  the  soul  to  leave  his  little 
daughter  behind  ;  and  Eliza  wept, — she  believed 
it  was  her  duty  to  bring  up  the  child  of  her  de- 
parted friend,  and  that  they  would  be  eventual- 
ly required  at  her  hands,  and  not  at  those  of  an- 
other. However,  the  two  parents  contented 
themselves,  and  left  the  dear  child  in  the  care 
of  their  friend  Mieg  : — that  she  was  well  taken 
care  of  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel.  They  then 
returned  with  their  son  to  Frankfort.  Brother 
Coing  accompanied  them  on  this  journey  into- 
the  Palatinate. 

After  a  short  stay  in  Frankfort,  the  whole 
company  commenced  their  journey  back  to  Mar- 
burg, where  the  two  professors  arrived  in  suffi- 
cient time  to  resume  their  vocation  and  their 
lectures. 

In  the  autumn  of  1791,  Eliza  was  happily 


134  HEINRICH 

brought  to  bed  of  a  daughter,  to  whom  was  giv- 
en the  name  of  Lubecka,  customary  in  the  fam- 
ily of  the  Duisings.  With  the  exception  of 
Stilling's  spasmodic  attack,  there  was  now  a 
small  cessation  of  suffering:  but  it  did  not  last 
long  ;  for  Hannah,  who  was  betrothed  to 
Schwarz,  was  again  seized  with  the  most  dread- 
ful hysteric  fits,  from  which,  however,  she  was 
entirely  freed  in  a  few  weeks,  by  that  very  able 
physician,  Michaelis,  who  is  also  one  of  Stilling's 
most  intimate  friends. 

On  new-year's-day,  1792,  Stilling  was  chosen 
pro-rector  of  the  university.  This  dignity  has 
always  been  held  in  high  estimation  ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  is  no  university  in  which 
this  office  is  so  difficult  to  fill  as  that  of  Marburg. 
Stilling  entered  upon  it  confiding  in  Divine  as- 
sistance ;  and  really  he  needed  it,  this  year, 
more  than  ever. 

As  Easter,  and  consequently  Hannah's  mar- 
riage was  now  approaching,  Eliza  undertook 
the  preparation  of  the  dower  ;  and  Stilling  in- 
vited uncle  Kraft,  with  his  consort  and  children, 
and  likewise  his  father  Wilhelm  Stilling,  to  the 
wedding.  They  all  came,  and  Stilling  reckons 
this  season  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  in  his 
whole  life  ; — to  the  crossbearer,  Wilhelm  Still- 
ing, it  was,  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  a  fore- 
taste of  heaven.  Schwarz  and  Hannah  were 
united  in  Stilling's  house,  amidst  the  blessings 
of  their  parents,  grand-parents,  friends  and  rela- 
tives ; — their  marriage  is  a  happy  one,  and  it 
goes  well  with  them.  After  the  ceremony,  the 
beloved  visitors  returned  to  their  homes. 

A  young  gentleman  had  been  for  some  time 
studying  at  Marburg,  who  is  now  the  Prussian 
counsellor  of  administration,  Von  Vincke.  He 
lodged  in  Stilling's  house,  and  dined  at  his  table  ; 
he  was  one  of  the  most  excellent  young  men 
who  have  ever  studied  at  Marburg.  His  father, 
the  Rev.  Dean  Von  Vincke,  of  Minden,  wrote 
to  say  that  he  would  come  during  the  summer, 
with  his  lady  and  family,  and  would  visit  Stil- 
ling and  his  Eliza.  They  did  so,  just  as  the 
German  princes  were  marching  to  Champagne, 
and  the  Duke  of  Weimar  with  his  regiment 
passed  through  Marburg.  Stilling  now  became 
acquainted  with  this  prince,  with  whom  the 
dean  and' he  spent  a  pleasant  afternoon.  After 
this  agreeable  visit,  Eliza  was  again  ill ;  she 
was  in  a  state  of  pregnancy,  which  was  render- 
ed abortive  by  her  illness ;  however,  it  passed 
over  happily,  so  that  on  the  ninth  day,  the 
weather  being  very  fine,  she  was  again  able  to 
go  out.  They  determined  therefore  to  go  to 
the  garden  ;  and  as  Schwarz  and  Hannah  were 
there  also  to  visit  their  mother,  father  Coing 
likewise  joined  the  company  in  the  garden.  He 
was  that  afternoon  particularly  cheerful  and 
happy;  and  as  he  was  afraid  of  the  evening  air, 
which  Eliza  also  could  not  bear,  he  took  her  by 
the  arm  and  conducted  her  home  ;  and  as  he 
passed  along  under  the  garden-wall,  the  young 
people  strewed  flowers  upon  him  from  above. 

The  next  morning,  at  five  o'clock,  Stilling's 
kitchen-maid  came  into  his  room,  and  requested 
him  to  come  out ;  he  dressed  himself  a  little, 
went  out,  and  found  Schwarz  and  Hannah,  pale 
and  with  downcast  eyes,  standing  in  the  room 
opposite.  "  Dear  father,"  began  Schwarz  "  what 
you  have  sb  often  foreboded  has  occurred ; — 
father  Coing  is  no  more  !"    These  words  pene- 


S  TIL  LING. 

trated  Stilling  like  a  thunderbolt,  through  and 
through,  and  with  it  the  consideiation  of  his 
Eliza,  who  was  still  so  weak,  and  who  loved 
her  father  so  tenderly  !  However,  he  took 
courage,  went  to  her  bedside,  and  said,  "  Eliza, 
a  dear  friend  is  dead  !"  She  answered,  "  What 1 
— Hannah  ?"  for  she  also  was  in  the  family-way. 
"  No,"  replied  he  ;  "  it  is  father  Coing  !"  Eliza 
grieved  very  much  for  her  father  ; — however 
she  bore  it  with  christian  resignation.  Never- 
theless, the  shock  laid  the  basis  for  a  painful 
affliction,  which  she  has  ever  since  had  to  bear. 
Stilling  now  hastened  to  the  dear  family  ; — they 
were  all  three  standing  in  the  room,  weeping. 
Stilling  embraced  and  kissed  them,  and  said, 
"  You  are  now  all  three  my  children  ;  as  soon 
as  it  is  possible,  remove  to  my  house."  This 
accordingly  took  place,  as  soon  ^as  the  corpse 
was  interred.  Residing  together  with  this  dear 
family  was,  in  the  sequel,  indescribably  benefi- 
cial and  consoling  to  Stilling,  as  will  be  subse- 
quently seen.  Father  Coing  had  been  seized 
with  symptoms  of  suffocation,  the  physician 
had  been  called,  and  all  possible  means  used  to 
save  him,  but  in  vain.  He  declared  very  calm- 
ly that  he  was  ready  to  die.  He  was  an  ex- 
cellent man,  and  his*  blessing  rests  upon  his 
children. 

The  most  important  period  of  Stilling's  life 
now  commences  ; — changes  took  place  in  him 
and  out  of  him,  which  gave  his  whole  being  a 
very  important  direction,  and  prepared  him  for 
the  situation  he  was  eventually  to  fill. 

Soon  after  father  Coing's  death,  the  time  ar- 
rived when,  as  pro-rector  of  the  University  of 
Marburg,  he  was  obliged,  in  company  with  the 
government  commissary,  to  travel  to  Lower 
Hesse,  in  order  to  visit  the  districts  there  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  University,  and  to  sell 
the  tithe  belonging  to  it  to  the  highest  bidder. 

The  two  friends,  Riess  and  Stilling,  therefore 
set  out  on  the  journey ;  and  the  latter  took 
Eliza  with  him,  in  order  to  afford  her  recreation 
and  amusement,  and  to  accelerate  her  recove- 
ry ;  for  her  illness,  and  in  particular,  her 
father's  sudden  death,  had  brought  her  very 
low.  After  executing  the  duties  of  their  office, 
Stilling  returned  with  her,  by  way  of  Cassel,  to 
Marburg.  At  Cassel,  and  even  previously, 
Eliza  observed  an  unpleasant  sensation  inward- 
ly in  the  neck  ;  this  feeling  became  stronger  on 
arriving  at  Cassel ;  and  there  arose  an  involun- 
tary and  occasional  convulsive  movement  of  the 
head  towards  the  right  side,  but  still  it  was 
not  perceptible  by  others.  She  travelled  home, 
and  attended  to  her  domestic  duties. 

The  autumn  vacation  again  approached.  Their 
uncle  Kraft,  at  Frankfort,  wrote  that  there  was 
a  rich  blind  Jewess  in  that  town,  who  wished  to 
be  couched  for  the  cataract  by  Stilling,  and  that 
she  would  gladly  pay  the  expences  of  his  jour- 
ney, if  he  would  come  and  administer  his  aid. 
Stilling  assented  to  this ;  but  required,  first,  to 
procure  permission  from  Cassel,  because  the 
pro-rector  of  Marburg  was  not  at  liberty  to  pass 
a  night  out  of  the  town.  He  obtained  the  per- 
mission, and  consequently  confided  his  office  to 
the  ex-pro-rector,  and  set  out  for  Frankfort,  ac- 
companied by  his  Eliza.  On  arriving  towards 
evening  at  Vilbel,  a  beautiful  village  on  the 
Nidda,  two  leagues  from  Frankfort,  as  they 
were  stopping  before  an  inn  to  feed  the  horses, 


STILLING'S  YEARS  OF  TUITION. 


135 


the  hostess  came  out  to  the  coach,  and  said, 
with  an  anxious  expression  of  countenance, 
"  Oh,  are  you  aware  that  the  French  have  entered 
the  empire,  and  have  already  taken  Spire  ?"  This 
intelligence  penetrated  through  Stilling's  whole 
existence  like  an  electric  shock  ;  but  still  he 
hoped  that  it  was  a  mere  report,  and  that  the 
matter  might  not  be  so  bad  ;  he  therefore  con- 
tinued his  journey  to  Frankfort,  with  his  atten- 
dants, and  took  up  his  residence  with  Mr.  Kraft. 
He  there  learnt  that  the  news  was  but  too  true 
in  its  whole  extent,  and  that  the  whole  city  was 
in  a  state  of  apprehension  and  disturbance.  It 
is  quite  requisite  that  I  make  a  few  observations 
here,  on  the  singular  effects  which  this  infor- 
mation produced  in  Stilling's  soul. 

King  Louis  the  Fourteenth  of  France,  after 
him  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  was  regent,  and 
finally  Louis  the  Fifteenth,  had  in  the  course  of 
a  century  introduced  an  unexampled  degree  of 
luxury  into  France.  A  nation  that  is  sunk  in 
voluptuousness,  and  whose  nerves  are  weaken- 
ed by  every  species  of  licentiousness,  receives 
the  witty  derisions  of  a  Voltaire  as  philosophy, 
and  the  sophistical  dreams  of  a  Rousseau  as  re- 
ligion. Hence,  a  national  character  naturally 
arises,  which  is  extremely  captivating,  agreea- 
ble, and  pleasing  to  the  sensual  man  ;  and  hav- 
ing that  which  is  dazzling  in  the  system,  and  at 
the  same  time  possessing  an  external  polish,  it 
becomes  interesting  even  to  the  reflecting  mind, 
and  therefore  gains  the  approbation  of  every 
cultivated  nation. 

It  was  for  this  reason,  also,  that  our  German 
nobility,  both  high  and  low,  regarded  France  as 
the  chief  school  for  politeness,  good  breeding, 
and — morality  '.  They  were  ashamed  of  the 
powerful  German  language,  and  spoke  French  ; 
French  adventurers,  friseurs,  and — any  thing, 
if  they  were  but  French — were  chosen  as  the 
tutors  of  future  rulers  ;  and  very  frequently, 
French  milliners  were  appointed  governesses  of 
our  princesses,  countesses,  and  ladies.  The 
German  national  character,  and  religion  along 
with  it,  went  out  of  fashion,  and  was  consigned 
to  the  lumber-room. 

Learned  men,  and  theologians  in  particular, 
were  now  desirous  of  giving  their  advice  and 
assistance  ;  and  for  this  purpose,  they  chose — 
the  way  of  accommodation.  They  sought  to 
make  peace  between  Christ  and  Belial ; — each 
was  to  give  way  a  little  ;  Christ  was  to  annul 
the  dogmas  of  the  doctrines  of  faith,  and  Belial 
to  forbid  gross  vices,  and  both  were  in  future  to 
recognize  nothing  as  the  basis  of  religion  but 
morality  ;  for  they  were  agreed  upon  this,  that 
the  latter  must  be  believed  and  taught ;  but  as 
for  the  performance,  it  was  left  to  the  liberty  of 
every  individual,  which  must  be  held  sacred, 
and  be  by  no  means  infringed  upon.  This 
Christo-Belial  system  was  then,  par  honneur  de 
lettre,  to  be  called  christian  doctrine,  in  order  not 
too  grossly  to  offend  Christ  and  his  true  wor- 
shippers. Thus  arose  the  intellectual  enlight- 
ening, so  much  esteemed  in  the  present  day, 
and  the  neology  of  the  Christian  religion. 

But  I  earnestly  beg  that  I  may  not  be  mista- 
ken. None  of  these  men  voluntarily  intended 
to  make  peace  between  Christ  and  Belial,  es- 
pecially as  the  existence  of  the  latter  was  no 
longer  believed ;  but  the  basis  of  all  human 
ideas,  which  imperceptibly  insinuates  itself  from 


youth  up  into  the  essence  of  human  reflection, 
opinion,  and  inference,  and  which,  if  the  indi- 
vidual be  not  very  watchful,  urges  itself  upon 
him  quite  involuntarily  by  the  spirit  of  the  times, 
altered  the  moral  principle  and  reason  in  such 
a  manner  that  people  now  found  much  in  the 
Bible  that  was  pronounced  superstitious,  ridic- 
ulous, and  absurd,  and  therefore  placed  them- 
selves above  every  thing;  and  then,  with  this 
spurious  principle,  and  altered  organ  of  investi- 
gation, undertook — the  boldest  enterprise  of  all— 
the  revision  of  the  Bible,  that  ancient  and  sacred 
relic  !  Thus  arose  the  beginning  of  the  great 
falling-away,  so  clearly  foretold  by  Christ  and 
his  apostles,  and  especially  by  Paul,  who  at 
the  same  time  asserts  that  soon  after,  the  man  of 
sin,  the  incarnate  Satan,  should  appear,  and  be 
hurled  into  the  abyss  by  the  sudden  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Lord. 

These  great  and  important  views  of  the  pre- 
sent state  of  Christendom  and  the  kingdom  of 
God,  had  gradually  arisen  in  Stilling's  mind  du- 
ring a  long  course  of  years,  partly  from  the  study 
of  history,  partly  from  observingt  he  signs  of 
the  times,  partly  by  the  diligent  reading  and 
studying  the  prophecies  of  scripture,  and  partly 
by  secret  communications  from  great  men  ;  and 
their  importance  filled  his  soul.  To  this,  ano- 
ther observation,  no  less  important,  was  added, 
which  was  in  unison  with  the  former. 

He  had  observed  the  origin  of  an  extensive 
alliance  among  people  of  all  ranks  ;  had  seen  its 
increase  and  progress,  and  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  its  principles,  which  had  no  less 
an  object  in  view  than  the  changing  of  the 
Christian  religion  into  natural  religion,  and  of 
the  monarchical  form  of  government  into  demo- 
cratic republics,  or  at  least  into  an  unobserved 
direction  of  the  ruling  powers  ;  and  he  had 
learnt,  by  the  wonderful  guidance  of  Providence, 
from  Raschmann,  how  far  the  thing  had  already 
prospered,  and  this  just  at  the  time  when  the 
French  revolution  broke  out.  He  knew  in 
what  degree  his  countrymen  who  belonged  to 
this  alliance  stood  in  agreement  with  the  French 
demagogues,  and  therefore  was  sufficiently  in- 
formed with  respect  to  the  state  of  the  times 
and  their  connection  with  biblical  prophecy. 

The  result  of  all  these  ideas  in  Stilling's  soul 
was,  that  Germany,  because  of  its  playing  the 
harlot  with  France,  would  be  severely  punished 
by  this  very  power.  He  foresaw  the  great  conv 
flict  by  which  the  great  chastisement  would  be 
inflicted,  for  men  are  punished  by  that  through 
which  they  have  sinned ;  and  as  the  falling- 
away  increased  with  rapid  strides,  he  already 
remotely  foreboded  the  founding  of  the  kingdom 
of  the  "  man  of  sin."  That  all  this  was  really 
so — that  is,  that  these  ideas  really  existed  in 
Stilling's  soul  before  any  one  thought  of  the 
French  revolution  and  its  consequences, — is 
evident  from  certain  passages  in  his  writings, 
and  particularly  from  an  oration  he  made  in 
1786,  before  the  Electoral  German  Society  at 
Manheim,  but  which,  for  reasons  that  may  be 
easily  conceived,  did  not  appear  in  print.  But 
with  all  his  ideas  and  convictions,  he  had  no 
supposed  that  the  storm  would  so  rapidly  and 
suddenly  break  out  over  Germany.  He  con- 
ceived, it  is  true,  that  the  French  revolution 
would  lay  the  remote  basis  for  the  last  great 
conflict  between  light  and  darkness,  but  he  had 


136  HEINRICH 

no  presentiment  that  this  conflict  was  so  near ;  | 
for  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  united  forces  of  the  | 
German  princes  would  conquer  France.  But 
now,  when  he  learnt  that  the  result  was  quite  dif- 
ferent, his  feelings  were  indescribable.  On  the 
one  hand  was  the  approaching  fulfilment  of  such 
expectations  as  exceed  the  highest  wishes  of 
the  Christian  ;  and  on  the  other,  expectations  al- 
so of  unheard-of  sufferings  and  afflictions,  which 
the  impending  mighty  conflict  would  unavoida- 
bly bring  with  it.  Truly,  this  was  a  state  of 
mind  the  weight  of  which  might  have  easily 
pressed  to  the  ground  a  man  who  had  suffered 
so  much  and  laboured  so  hard,  and  still  labour- 
ed, if  Providence  had  not  intended  to  preserve 
him  for  objects  of  importance. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  this  of  itself  was  a 
sufficient  ordeal ;  but  just  at  this  very  anxious 
season,  a  particular  heat  was  added,  which  the 
Great  Refiner,  for  reasons  known  to  Him  alone 
found  it  needful  to  permit.  I  have  mentioned 
above,  that  Eliza,  by  a  fright  in  a  weak  state 
from  indisposition,  had  been  seized  with  a  con- 
vulsive motion  of  the  head  towards  the  right 
side.  Hitherto  the  evil  had  not  been  very  con- 
siderable, but  it  now  became  terrible  and  dread- 
ful both  to  herself  and  her  husband ;  for  on  the 
second  day  of  her  abode  in  Frankfort,  a  terrific 
alarm  was  spread  that  the  French  were  on  the 
march.  The  magistrates  assembled  on  the 
Körner ;  water-casks  were  filled  in  order  to 
extinguish  fire  during  the  bombardment,  &c.  ; — 
in  a  word,  the  general  panic  was  indescribable. 
"With  respect  to  Eliza,  there  was  also  another 
consideration  :  —  the  University  of  Marburg 
forms  one  of  the  Hessian  states,  Stilling  was 
its  pro-rector,  and  its  sovereign  was  at  war 
with  France.  There  was  therefore  nothing 
more  probable  than  that  the  French,  on  enter- 
ing Frankfort,  would  send  Stilling  as  a  hostage 
to  France.  This  was  too  much  for  Eliza,  who 
tenderly  loved  her  husband  ; — her  head  now 
moved  continually  towards  the  right  shoulder, 
and  the  whole  of  the  upper  part  of  her  body 
was  thereby  distorted.  Eliza  suffered  much 
from  it,  and  Stilling  thought  he  should  have 
died  in  the  midst  of  so  much  misery.  Eliza 
had  naturally  a  straight  and  fine  figure,  but  now 
a  disagreeable  and  suffering  form  ;  it  was  scarce- 
ly to  be  endured.  Besides  all  this,  it  was  utterly 
impossible  to  leave  the  town  ;  they  were  there- 
fore undeV  the  necessity  of  remaining  there  that 
day  and  the  next,  when  it  appeared  that  the 
French  first  intended  to  take  Mayence.  Still- 
ing now  found  an  opportunity  for  departing ; 
and  as  the  Jewess  was  incurably  blind,  he 
travelled  back  again  with  Eliza  to  Marburg. 
Every  possible  means  were  attempted  to  de- 
liver the  worthy  woman  from  her  affliction,  but 
every  thing  has  been  hitherto  in  vain.  She 
has  suffered  in  this  way  for  more  than  eleven 
years  ;  it  is  certainly  rather  better  now  than  at 
that  time,  but  it  is  still  a  very  heavy  cross  for 
herself  and  her  husband  to  bear. 

Stilling  faithfully  persevered  in  the  discharge, 
of  his  office  as  pro-rector  and  professor,  and 
Eliza  bore  her  affliction  as  becomes  a  Chris- 
tian ; — to  this  was  now  joined  the  fear  of  being 
attacked  by  the  French.  The  Elector  return- 
ed, it  is  true,  about  the  beginning  of  October; 
but  his  troops  followed  him  very  slowly,  on  ac- 
count of  the  badness  of  the  weather.  Hesse 
and  the  whole  country  was  therefore  unprotect- 


ST  ILLING. 

ed,  and  the  French  general,  Custine,  could  have 
acted  as  he  liked.  If  his  courage  and  his  un- 
derstanding had  been  as  large  as  his  whiskers 
and  mustachios,  the  greater  part  of  Germany 
would  have  lost  its  political  existence ;  for  the 
general  feeling  was,  at  that  time,  revolutionary, 
and  favourable  to  France. 

However,  it  was  not  then  known  what  Cus- 
tine's  intentions  were,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
be  prepared  for  every  thing.  His  troops  rav- 
aged the  Wetterau,  and  at  times  the  thunder  of 
their  cannon  was  heard.  All  prepared  for  flight, 
with  the  exception  of  the  heads  of  the  college, 
who  dared  not  leave  their  posts  ;  consequently 
Stilling  as  well  as  the  rest,  was  obliged  to  re- 
main. This  situation  of  things  extremely  op- 
pressed his  soul,  which  was  already  harassed 
on  all  sides. 

One  Sunday  morning,  towards  the  end  of 
October,  the  terrible  report  was  spread  in  the 
town,  that  the  French  were  near  at  hand,  and 
coming  down  the  Lahnberg.  Stilling's  anxiety 
now  became  insupportable.  He  fell  on  his 
knees  in  his  study,  and  besought  the  Lord,  with 
tears,  for  strength  and  consolation ;  his  eyes 
then  fell  upon  a  little  text-book,  which  stood 
before  him  amongst  other  books  ;  he  felt  incited 
in  his  mind  to  open  it ;  and  on  doing  so,  he 
found  the  text,  "  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  to  the 
hills,,  from  whence  cometh  my  help  ;  my  help 
cometh  from  the  Lord,"  &c.  He  opened  it 
again,  and  found,  "  I  will  be  a  wall  of  fire  round 
about  them,"  &c.  He  rose  up  encouraged  and 
comforted,  and  from  that  time  he  was  no  longer 
afraid  of  the  French  ;  nor  did  any  of  them  come, 
and  the  Prussians  and  Hessians  soon  after  ap- 
proached, Frankfort  was  retaken,  and  Mayence 
besieged. 

Here  I  must  make  two  observations,  which 
none  of  my  readers  will  take  amiss. 

1.  The  opening  upon  passages  of  Scripture, 
in  order  to  ascertain  the  will  of  God,  or  even 
the  future,  is  certainly  an  abuse  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  not  permitted  to  a  Christian. 
If  a  person  wishes  to  do  it  in  order  to  derive 
consolation  from  the  divine  word,  it  ought  to 
be  done  in  complete  resignation  and  submission 
to  the  will  of  God  ;  but  he  ought  not  to  be  cast 
down  or  discouraged,  if  he  hits  upon  a  passage 
which  is  not  of  a  consoling  nature.  Cutting  for 
a  text  is  no  means  which  God  has  ever  appoint- 
ed for  any  object ;  it  is  a  kind  of  lot ;  and  this  is- 
a  sacred  thing  which  ought  not  to  be  profaned. 

2.  Stilling's  extreme  timidity  may  possibly 
excite,  in  some,  unfavourable  ideas  of  him,  as. 
if  he  were  a  man  devoid  of  courage.  To  this 
it  may  he  answered,  that  Stilling  trembles  at 
every  danger,  whether  great  or  small,  before  it 
is  realized  :  but  when  it  arrives  he  is  confident 
and  courageous,  even  in  the  greatest  trials.  < 
This  is  the  natural  consequence  of  long-endured 
sufferings ; — we  fear  them,  because  we  know 
their  pain  ;  and  endure  them  with  confidence,, 
because  we  are  accustomed  to  bear  them,  and 
are  acquainted  with  their  blissful  results. 

Stilling  was  invited  by  the  worthy  family  of 
the  Von  Vinckes  to  visit  them  at  Prussian  Min- 
den during  the  next  Easter  vacation.  He 
thankfully  accepted  this  invitation,  and  his  in- 
mate, young  Von  Vincke,  and  some  friends  from 
Cassel,  accompanied  him.  Stilling  suffered 
much  on  this  journey,  from  spasms  in  the  sto- 
mach; the  weather  was  raw,  and  he  rode 


STILLING'S  YEARS   OF  TUITION 


137 


thither  on  horseback.  He  also  accompanied 
the  family  above-mentioned  to  their  sumptuous 
manorial  residence  of  Ostenwalde,  four  leagues 
from  Osnabrück,  and  then  travelled  home  again 
by  way  of  Detmold. 

Stilling  became  acquainted  with  several  re- 
markable individuals  on  this  journey,  with  some 
of  whom  he  entered  into  an  intimate  and  friendly 
connection  ;  namely,  the  lately  deceased  Prin- 
cess Juliana  of  Bückeburg,  Kleuker  of  Osna- 
brück (who  had  however  already  visited  Still- 
ing in  Marburg),  Moser  and  his  daughter,  Ma- 
dame Von  Voight,  the  Princess  Christina  of 
Lippe  Detmold,  the  three  divines — Ewald,  Pas- 
savant,  and  Von  Cölln,  and  Doctor  Scherf,  phy- 
sician to  the  prince  of  Lippe.  All  these  worthy 
individuals  manifested  respect  and  kindness  to 
Stilling.  There  was  also  then  living  in  Det- 
mold a  very  worthy  matron,  the  widow  of  the 
late  S'iperintendant-general  Stosch,  with  her 
daughters,  the  eldest  of  whom  had  been  Selma's 
intimate  friend.  Stilling  visited  her,  and  was 
received  with  affecting  tenderness.  On  taking 
leave,  the  venerable  woman  fell  on  his  neck, 
and  said,  "  If  we  see  each  other  no  more  in  this 
world,  pray  for  me,  that  the  Lord  would  perfect, 
that  which  concerns  me,  in  order  that  I  may  be 
able  eventually  to  embrace  you  again  in  his 
kingdom  with  more  joy  than  at  present." 

On  Selling's  return  from  this  journey  to  Mar- 
burg, when  he  came  to  his  house-door,  Eliza 
stepped  out  to  receive  her  husband  ;  but  what 
a  sight  ! — a  sword  pierced  his  soul ;  Eliza  stood 
there,  bent  and  crooked  ;  the  motion  in  her 
neck  communicated  itself  more  violently  to  the 
upper  part  of  her  body  ;  it  was  dreadful !  His 
heart  bled  with  sympathy  and  sorrow ;  but  this 
was  of  no  avail — he  was  compelled  to  bear  it. 
However,  every  thing  was  done  to  cure  the 
sufferer,  and  the  most  powerful  remedies  were 
resorted  to  ;  four  balls  of  mora  were  burnt  upon 
her  shoulder,  on  the  bare  skin.  She  bore  this 
dreadful  pain  without  uttering  a  word  ;  but  it 
proved  of  no  utility.  She  used  baths,  especial- 
ly the  shower-bath,  which  is  very  powerful  in 
its  operation,  but  it  all  ended  in  nothing.  Be- 
sides this  affliction,  she  suffered  a  second  mis- 
carriage, in  which  her  life  was  really  endanger- 
ed ;  but  with  the  Divine  assistance,  she  was  re- 
stored again  by  the  means  that  were  employed. 
By  degrees,  the  convulsive  motion  in  her  neck 
amended  itself  so  far  as  to  'make  it,  at  least, 
more  tolerable. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1793,  brother  Going 
entered  upon  the  pastoral  office,  having  been 
appointed  to  the  Reformed  Church  at  Gemünd, 
a  town  in  the  principality  of  Upper  Hessia,  five 
leagues  from  Marburg.  He  had  resided  above 
half  a  jear  in  Stilling's  house.  Coing  would 
have  been  his  brother,  even  though  no  bond  of 
consanguinity  had  endeared  him  to  him. 

The  most  remarkable  particular  in  the  history 
of  Stilling's  life,  during  this  and  the  following 
year,  is  the  publication  of  two  works  which  were 
peculiarly  instrumental  in  determining  his  final 
vocation  ;  these  were,  "  Scenes  in  the  Invisi- 
ble world,"  in  two  volumes  ;  and  "Nostalgia,"* 
in  four  volumes,  with  the  key  belonging  to  it. 


*  We  have  no  word  in  use  in  English,  corresponding 
with  the  German  word  '-Heimweh,"  which  literally 
means  "  home-ache  ;"  probably  because  no  such  disease 
is  known  in  this  country. — JVote  of  the  Translator. 
S 


The  "  Scenes  in  the  Invisible  World,"  produ- 
ced an  unexpected  effect ;  they  gained  Stilling* 
a  large  class  of  religious  readers,  I  may  say 
with  truth  and  without  boasting,  in  every  quar- 
ter of  the  globe.  By  their  means,  the  true  wor- 
shippers of  Jesus  Christ  were  again  made  at- 
tentive to  the  man  the  history  of  whose  life  had 
already  made  an  impression  upon  them  ;  but  the 
"  Nostalgia"  had  still  more  particular  results  ; 
— it  gave  the  first  bias  to  Stilling's  future  pur- 
suits, as  the  sequel  will  show. 

The  origin  of  both  books  is  very  remarkable, 
for  it  proves  incontestibly  that  Stilling  did  not 
contribute  in  the  least  degree  towards  the  pro- 
curing cause  of  his  subsequent  appointment ;  as 
indeed  was  the  case  during  the  whole  of  his* 
course,  as  I  will  show  at  the  end  of  this  vol- 
ume. However,  with  respect  to  these  books,, 
and  particularly  the  "Nostalgia,"  which  proved 
peculiarly  instrumental  in  that  respect,  it  is  re- 
quisite that  I  relate  their  origin  circumstantial- 
ly, and  according  to  the  precise  state  of  the 
case. 

The  "  Scenes  in  the  Invisible  World"  origi- 
nated as  follows.  Whilst  Raschmann  and  the 
Counts  were  at  Marburg,  one  evening,  in  com- 
pany at  his  house,  Wieland's  translation  of  Lu- 
cian  was  spoken  of.  Raschmann  read  a  few 
passages  from  it  which  were  extremely  comi- 
cal ;  the  whole  company  laughed  aloud,  and* 
every  one  admired  the  translation  as  an  inimi- 
table master-piece.  On  a  certain  occasion  this 
book  again  occurred  to  Stilling  ;  and  he  wrote 
for  it  immediately,  without  reflection.  Some 
time  after,  his  conscience  smote  him  for  this 
hasty  step.  "  What !"  said  the  reproving  voice 
in  his  soul,  "  thou  art  about  to  purchase  so  valu- 
able a  book  in  seven  volumes  ;  and  for  what 
purpose  ? — merely  in  order  to  laugh  !  Yet  thou 
hast  still  so  many  debts,  and  must  provide  for 
thy  wife  and  family  !  And  if  this  were  not  the 
case,  how  much  assistance  mightest  thou  have 
afforded  by  it  to  some  poor  sufferer  !  Thou  art 
buying  a  book  which  is  not  even  of  use  to  thee 
in  any  part  of  thy  vocation,  much  less  necessa- 
ry." Stilling  now  stood  before  his  judge  like 
a  poor  criminal  who  surrenders  himself  at  dis- 
cretion. It  was  a  hard  struggle,  a  painful  wrest- 
ling for  grace  ;  but  at  length  he  obtained  it,  and 
then  sought,  on  his  part,  to  make  as  much  re- 
paration for  this  transgression  as  possible.  If 
Lucian  and  Wieland,  thought  he,  have  written 
scenes  in  the  world  of  fabulous  deities,  partly  in 
order  to  exhibit  the  absurdity  of  the  heathen 
mythology  in  a  ridiculous  point  of  view,  and 
partly  also  to  amuse  their  readers,  I  will  now 
write  scenes  in  the  real  Christian  invisible 
world,  for  the  serious  consideration  and  for  the 
instruction  and  edification  of  the  reader,  and 
apply  what  I  may  obtain  for  the  work  to  the 
benefit  of  poor  blind  people."  He  carried  this 
idea  into  execution,  and  thus  originated  a  book 
which  produced  the  entirely  unexpected  effect 
above  mentioned. 

The  origin  of  the  "Nostalgia"  was  just  a? 
little  the  result  of  reflection.  Stilling,  from  par 
ticular  inducement,  had  perused  attentively 
Sterne's  "Tristram  Shandy."  Soon  after,  it 
also  happened  that  he  read  the  "  Genealogical 
Biographies."  Both  books,  as  is  well  known, 
are  written  in  a  sententious  and  humorous  style. 
In  the  perusal  of  these  works,  Stilling  had  a 


138  HEINRICH 

very  different  object  in  view  from  that  which  | 
Providence  intended. 

To  these  two  preparatives  a  third  was  added. 
Stilling  had  for  a  long  time  accustomed  himself 
daily  to  translate  a  passage  out  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament from  the  Hebrew,  and  another  out  of 
the  New  from  the  Greek,  and  then  form  from 
them  a  concise  and  pithy  sentence.  He  had  a 
large  store  of  such  sentences  in  his  possession, 
with  no  other  object  in  view  than  biblical  study. 
Now  who  could  imagine  that  these  insignificant, 
and  in  reality,  trifling  things,  should  have  laid 
the  real  and  peculiar  foundation  for  the  devel- 
opment of  such  a  remarkable  circumstance  1 
Truly,  Stilling  had  not  the  remotest  presenti- 
ment of  it. 

Soon  after  the  perusal  of  the  books  above- 
mentioned,  and  about  the  end  of  July  1793,  Mr. 
Krieger,  a  bookseller  in  Marburg,  came  one 
forenoon  to  Stilling,  and  requested  him  to  give 
him  something  of  a  classical  nature,  in  the 
shape  of  a  novel,  to  publish,  in  order  that  he 
might  have  something  which  might  prove  profit- 
able to  him,  because  the  dry  Compendia  went 
off  so  slowly,  &c.  Stilling  felt  something  in  his 
mind  which  acquiesced  in  this  request ;  he 
therefore  promised  him  a  work  of  the  kind,  and 
that  he  would  commence  it  without  delay. 

The  idea  now  suddenly  occurred  to  Stilling, 
that  from  his  youth  up  he  had  cherished  the 
wish  in  his  soul,  after  John  Bunyan's  example, 
to  portray  the  true  Christian's  path  of  repent- 
ance, conversion,  and  sanctification,  under  the 
similitude  of  a  journey  ;  he  therefore  resolved 
to  put  this  idea  into  execution ;  and  as  he  had 
only  lately  been  reading  those  humorous  works, 
to  adopt  their  style  and  mode  of  diction,  and 
then  intermingle  in  it  his  stock  of  sentences  in 
an  appropriate  manner.  An  idea  which  he  had 
shortly  before  expressed  in  writing  in  a  person's 
album,  gave  occasion  to  the  title  "  Nostalgia  ;" 
it  was  as  follows 

"  Blessed  are  they  that  long  for  home, 
For  thither  they  shall  surely  come  ;" 

for  it  was  his  opinion  that  this  title  would  suit 
well  to  a  book  which  was  intended  to  describe 
the  painful  journey  of  a  Christian  to  his  heaven- 
ly home. 

Thus  prepared,  Stilling  began  to  write  his 
"  Nostalgia."  But  as  he  was  not  fully  confi- 
dent whether  he  should  succeed  in  this  method, 
he  read  the  first  six  parts  to  his  intimate  friends, 
Michaelis  and  Schlarbaum,  who  were  extreme- 
ly well  pleased  with  the  commencement,  and 
encouraged  him  to  proceed  in  the  same  manner. 
But  in  order  to  be  the  more  sure,  he  selected 
seven  individuals  from  the  circle  of  his  friends, 
who  met  at  his  house  once  a  fortnight,  and  to 
whom  he  read  what  he  had  written  in  the  in- 
tervening time,  and  heard  their  judgment  re- 
specting it. 

The  state  of  mind  which  Stilling  experienced 
whilst  labouring  at  this  work,  which  consists 
of  four  large  octavo  volumes,  is  utterly  inde- 
scribable. His  spirit  was  as  if  elevated  into 
ethereal  regions  ;  a  feeling  of  serenity  and  peace 
pervaded  him,  and  he  enjoyed  a  felicity  which 
words  cannot  express.  When  he  began  to 
work,  ideas  glistened  past  his  soul,  which  ani- 
mated him  so  much  that  he  could  scarcely  write 
with  the  rapidity  which  the  flow  of  ideas  re- 
quired.   This  was  also  the  reason  why  the 


STILLING. 

whole  work  took  quite  another  form,  and  the 
composition  quite  another  tendency,  to  that 
which  he  had  proposed  at  the  commenqement. 

He  experienced,  besides,  another  singular 
phenomenon  ; — in  the  state  between  sleeping 
and  waking,  the  most  beautiful  and  as  it  were 
paradisiacal  scenery  presented  itself  to  his  in- 
ward senses.  He  attempted  to  delineate  it,  but 
found  it  impossible.  With  this  imagery,  there 
was  always  a  feeling  connected,  compared  with 
which  all  the  joys  of  sense  are  as  nothing  ; — 
it  was  a  blissful  season  !  This  state  of  mind 
lasted  exactly  as  long  as  Stilling  was  engaged 
in  writing  the  "Nostalgia;"  that  is,  from  Au- 
gust, 1793,  to  December,  1794,  consequently  full 
a  year  and-a-quarter. 

But  here  I  must  seriously  entreat  the  Christ- 
ian reader  not  to  judge  uncharitably,  as  if  Still- 
ing wished  to  arrogate  to  himself  Divine  inspi- 
ration, or  even  any  thing  approaching  that  na- 
ture. No,  friends  !  Stilling  assumed  no  such 
thing.  It  was  an  exalted  feeling  of  the  nearness 
of  the  Lord,  who  is  the  Spirit ; — this  light  irrad- 
iated the  powers  of  his  soul,  and  enlightened 
his  imagination  and  reason.  In  this  light  Still- 
ing was  to  write  the  "Nostalgia;"  but  yet 
it  is  still  an  imperfect  human  work.  Supposing 
that  an  apprentice,  who  had  hitherto  produced 
wretched  performances  by  the  dubious  light  of  a 
lamp,  had  his  window-shutters  suddenly  thrown 
open,  and  the  light  of  the  sun  suffered  to  shine 
into  his  work-room,  his  productions  would  still 
be  only  those  of  an  apprentice,  but  yet  they 
would  be  better  than  before. 

Hence  came  also  the  unexampled  approbation 
which  this  book  met  with.  A  number  of  copies 
wandered  to  America,  where  it  is  much  read. 
In  Asia,  where  there  are  also  some  pious  Ger- 
mans, the  "Nostalgia"  was  known  and  read. 
From  Denmark,  Sweden,  and  Russia,  even  to 
Astracan,  Stilling  received  proofs  of  approba- 
tion. Out  of  every  province  in  Germany,  from 
persons  of  all  ranks,  from  the  throne  to  the 
plough,  Stilling  received  a  multitude  of  letters, 
which  testified  the  loudest  approval ; — not  a 
few  learned  sceptics  were  convinced  by  it,  and 
gained  over  to  true  Christianity  ;  in  a  word,  there 
are  few  books  that  have  caused  such  a  power- 
ful and  extensive  sensation  as  Stiliing's  "  Nos- 
talgia." This  must  not  be  regarded  as  boasting ; 
it  belongs  to  the  essential  part  of  this  history. 

But  the  "  Nostalgia"  operated  powerfully  and 
painfully  upon  Stilling  himself.  The  delight  he 
had  felt  whilst  writing  it  now  ceased  ;  the  deep 
and  inward  conviction,  that  even  political  econ- 
omy was  not  his  real  vocation,  produced  the  very 
same  effect  on  his  mind  as  did  the  discovery  at 
Elberfeld,*  that  the  practice  of  medicine  was  not 
that  for  which  he  was  ultimately  designed.  He 
felt  the  pressure  of  a  dejection  which  penetrated 
into  his  inmost  soul,  an  unspeakable  melting  of 
the  heart  and  contrition  of  spirit  ; — all  the  praise 
and  all  the  approbation  of  princes,  and  of  the 
greatest  and  most  excellent  men,  caused  him 
indeed,  a  momentary  joy  ;  but  then  he  felt  pro- 
foundly, that  all  this  did  not  belong  to  him,  and 
that  all  the  praise  was  due  to  Him  alone  who 
had  entrusted  him  with  such  talents.  Such  is 
his  state  of  mind  still,  and  such  it  will  remain. 

It  is  remarkable  that  just  at  this  period,  three 


*  Called  Sckonentkal  at  the  commencement  of  the  work. 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


139 


voices  entirely  independent  of  each  other,  de- 
clared that  Stilling's  academical  situation  was 
no  longer  his  proper  vocation. 

The  first  was  an  inward  conviction,  which 
had  arisen  in  him  during  the  time  he  was  wri- 
ting the  "  Nostalgia,"  and  for  which  he  was 
unable  to  give  a  reason.  The  impulse  he  had 
so  strongly  felt  from  his  childhood  to  become  an 
active  instrument  in  the  Lord's  hands,  fur  the 
advancement  of  religion,  and  which  was  also  al- 
ways the  operative  cause  of  his  minor  religious 
occupations,  now  stood  more  conspicuously  be- 
fore his  eyes  than  ever,  and  filled  him  with  a 
longing  to  become  free  from  all  earthly  things, 
in  order  to  become  able  to  serve  the  Lord  and 
His  kingdom  actively  and  with  all  his  powers. 

The  second  voice,  which  spoke  the  same 
thing,  was  contained  in  every  letter  he  received, 
whether  from  far  or  near ; — persons  of  every 
rank  in  society,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest, 
called  upon  him  to  devote  himself  exclusively 
and  entirely  to  the  service  of  the  Lord  and  the 
cause  of  religion,  and  by  no  means  to  discon- 
tinue his  labours  in  that  department. 

The  third  and  last  voice  was,  that  just  about 
this  time,  academical  orders  and  a  revolution- 
ary spirit  prevailed  amongst  the  students  at 
Marburg,  by  which  their  whole  minds  were  fill- 
ed with  principles  and  sentiments  directly  op- 
posed to  the  doctrines  which  Stilling  taught. 
Hence  the  number  of  his  hearers  continually  de- 
creased ;  and  the  spirit  of  the  times,  the  prevail- 
ing mode  of  thinking,  and  the  general  tendency 
of  the  German  financial  policy,  left  him  not  a 
glimmer  of  hope  that  he  would  be  in  future  of 
any  utility  with  reference  to  his  principles  of  po- 
litical economy. 

I  now  request  my  readers  calmly  to  reflect 
how  an  honest  and  conscientious  man  must  feel 
in  such  a  situation,  and  whether  the  whole  po- 
sition in  which  Stilling  now  found  himself  could 
have  resulted  from  blind  accident  or  chance. 

However  clear  and  evident  all  this  was,  yet 
the  way  to  attain  to  it  was,  on  the  other  hand, 
equally  obscure.  No  expedient  could  be  at 
that  time  thought  of  by  which  to  arrive  at  it ; 
— for  his  family  was  numerous  ;  his  son  was  at 
the  university  ;  the  war  and  other  circumstan- 
ces made  every  thing  very  dear  ;  the  needy 
were  many  ;  his  large  income  was  scarcely  suf- 
ficient ;  and  there  were  still  many  debts  to  pay. 
Eliza,  indeed,  who  trod  sincerely  in  Selma's 
footsteps  with  regard  to  the  housekeeping,  had, 
notwithstanding  all  the  sickness,  heavy  expen- 
ses, and  Hannah's  marriage,  already  liquidated 
in  a  few  years,  some  hundred  guilders  ;  and  the 
interest  was  regularly  paid  every  year.  But 
under  present  circumstances,  it  was  impossible 
to  think  of  any  perceptible  liquidation  of  debt ; 
it  was  therefore  necessary  that  Stilling  should 
retain  his  professorship,  and  attend  to  it  with 
all  fidelity,  for  the  sake  of  the  stipend.  Let  the 
reader  imagine  himself  in  his  place  ; — insur- 
mountable hindrances  lay  in  the  way  of  the  vo- 
cation and  sphere  of  action  in  which  he  could 
have  been  most  beneficially  and  cheerfully  oc- 
cupied, and  to  which,  from  his  youth  up,  he  had 
an  unconquerable  inclination.  On  the  other  hand 
that  vocation  in  which  he  was  obliged  to  labour, 
without  benefit  and  without  hope,  was  complete- 
ly indispensable  to  him.  And  joined  with  this  was 
the  melancholy  idea  of  what  the  Elector  would 


say,  when  he  learnt  that  Stilling  did,  or  rather 
was  able  to  do,  so  little  for  his  heavy  salary. 

The  year  1794  again  strewed  many  thorns  in 
Stilling's  path ;  for  in  February,  Eliza's  eldest 
daughter,  Lubecka,  died,  from  the  consequences 
of  the  measles,  and  in  the  sequel,  other  bitter 
sufferings  were  added. 

In  July  of  the  following  summer,  Lavater 
wrote  to  him  that  he  would  pass  through  Mar- 
burg on  his  return  from  Copenhagen.  This 
caused  him  real  joy  ;  he  had  seen  this  friend 
of  his  heart  just  twenty  years  before,  in  Elber- 
feld, and  consequently  only  once  in  his  life; 
but  still,  at  times,  had  exchanged  confidential 
letters  with  him.  It  was  of  extreme  importance 
to  him  once  more  to  converse  personally  with 
this  witness  for  the  truth,  and  discuss  many 
subjects  with  him  which  were  too  difficult  and 
copious  for  correspondence.  Lavater  arrived 
one  Sunday  afternoon  in  Marburg,  with  his  pi- 
ous and  amiable  daughter,  now  the  consort  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Gessner,  of  Zurich.  Stilling  went 
about  a  league  to  meet  him.  Lavater  contin- 
ued at  Marburg  until  early  the  next  morning, 
when  he  proceeded  on  his  journey. 

It  is  difficult  to  call  to  mind  in  the  whole 
course  of  history,  a  learned  man  that  has  exci- 
ted so  much  attention,  and  who  so  little  sought 
it,  as  Lavater.  In  the  evening,  whilst  he  was 
supping  with  Stilling,  the  place  before  the  house 
was  filled  with  people,  and  the  windows  were 
crowded  with  heads.  He  was  certainly  in  ma- 
ny respects  a  remarkable  man,  and  a  great  wit- 
ness for  the  truth  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  bond 
of  fraternity  was  now  more  firmly  established 
between  Lavater  and  Stilling;  they  strengthened 
each  other,  and  resolved  that  neither  death,  nor 
life,  nor  reproach,  nor  shame,  should  ever  cause 
them  to  turn  away  from  Christ,  who  was  then 
so  despised  and  hated. 

Soon  afterwards  followed  the  bitter  affliction 
I  have  mentioned  above  ; — it  was  a  fiery  trial. 
Stilling  was  accustomed,  during  the  Whitsun- 
tide holidays,  to  go  with  his  auditory  to  Cassel, 
in  order  to  shew  them  the  foreign  horticultural 
productions  at  Wilhelmshöhe.  This  was  done 
principally  for  the  sake  of  those  who  studied 
the  botanical  sciences ;  but  many  others  also 
accompanied  him,  to  see  what  else  was  remark- 
able in  Cassel.  The  journey  thither  and  back 
was  generally  performed  on  foot.  On  this  oc- 
casion, Stilling  had  the  pleasure  to  see  one  of 
his  wishes  fulfilled  by  the  Elector,  which  was, 
the  laying  out  a  particular  nursery  for  forest- 
trees.  As  he  was  returning  home  with  his  ret- 
inue, and  the  students  were  conversing  among 
themselves  on  the  pleasure  they  had  enjoyed  at 
Cassel,  and  that  every  thing  had  succeeded  so 
well,  Stilling  joined  in  the  conversation,  and 
said,  "  I  have  likewise  been  much  pleased,  for 
I  have  also  obtained  something  of  which  I  was 
desirous,"  without  explaining  himself  further ; 
but  he  had  in  his  eye  the  promise  of  the  Elect- 
or, with  regard  to  the  nursery  of  forest-trees. 

There  was  at  that  time  a  private  teacher  in 
Marburg,  a  worthy  and  learned  young  man,  of 
whom  the  students  were  very  fond.  He  was 
addicted  to  Kant's  philosophy,  which  at  that 
time  was  the  order  of  the  day.  Now,  as  the 
Elector  was  not  very  favourable  to  that  system, 
and  had,  perhaps,  heard  something  to  the  pre- 
judice of  the  private  teacher,  be  sent  a  rescript 


140 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


lo  the  young  man  ;  in  consequence  of  which  he 
was  removed  to  Hanau,  as  professor  of  philoso- 
phy, with  a  stipend  of  a  hundred  dollars.  The 
latter  was  obliged  to  obey  ;  but  the  students 
were  enraged,  and  the  whole  of  their  suspicion 
fell  upon  Stilling ;  for  they  construed  the  ex- 
pression he  had  made  use  of  on  the  journey  from 
Cassel,  respecting  the  success  of  his  wishes,  as 
having  reference  to  the  removal  of  the  private 
teacher,  of  which  they  deemed  he  had  been  the 
cause.  The  ferment  at  length  reached  its 
height  ;  and,  in  order  to  make  a  tumult,  they 
determined  to  serenade  the  private  teacher,  who 
was  then  ready  to  depart,  and  afterwards  take 
the  opportunity  of  storming  Stilling's  house  and 
breaking  his  windows.  His  good  son  Jacob 
was  informed  of  all  this  ; — he  was  studying  ju- 
risprudence, was  very  regular  and  diligent,  and 
never  took  the  smallest  part  in  such  disorderly 
proceedings.  The  worthy  youth  was  in  a  state 
of  great  anxiety;  for  his  mother-in-law  Eliza, 
whom  he  cordially  loved,  was  again  pregnant, 
and  his  aunt,  Amalia  Coing,  Eliza's  youngest 
sister,  was  seriously  ill  of  the  dysentery.  He 
saw  therefore,  before  his  eyes,  the  lives  of  three 
individuals  in  danger  ;  for  the  spirit  of  the  times 
at  that  period,  which  stood  in  connexion  with 
the  reign  of  terror  in  France,  breathed  out  mur- 
der and  death  ;  and  the  students  lived  in  the 
intoxication  of  revolutionary  sentiments. 

Jacob  therefore  informed  his  parents  of  the 
danger  that  threatened  them  in  the  evening,  and 
requested  them  to  remove  the  windows  which 
were  next  the  street  and  the  square,  and  to  lay 
Amalia  in  another  place  ;  for  she  lay  at  the  win- 
dow towards  the  street.  The  windows,  how- 
ever, were  not  taken  out ;  but  the  invalid  had 
a  bed  made  behind,  in  an  alcove.  Meanwhile, 
Jacob  went  about  amongst  the  students,  and 
represented  to  them  the  danger  which  might 
arise  from  the  fright ;  but  this  was  like  preach- 
ing to  deaf  ears.  At  length,  as  he  ceased  not 
to  entreat  them,  they  consented,  on  condition 
that  he  would  also  enter  "  the  order."  The 
good  youth  struggled  for  two  painful  hours  in 
the  choice  between  two  evils ;  however,  he 
finally  thought  that  entering  into  an  order  was 
the  smaller  of  the  two.  He  therefore  did  so  ; 
the  misfortune  was  averted,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  the  students,  as  the  procession  passed  Still- 
ing's house,  should  merely  show  their  hostility 
by  spitting ;  this  they  were  at  liberty  to  do  ; 
there  was  room  enough  in  the  street  for  it. 

Stilling  knew  not  a  word  of  his  son's  having 
entered  a  students'  order  ;  he  first  heard  of  it  a 
year  afterwards,  but  in  such  a  way  that  it  nei- 
ther occasioned  him  terror  nor  sorrow.  Jacob 
earnestly  besought  h.s  parents  to  send  him  for 
half-a-year  to  Göttingen.  The  true  reason  of 
this  no  one  was  acquainted  with.  He  pretend- 
ed that  it  would  be  much  to  his  advantage  to 
study  in  Göttingen  :  in  short,  he  ceased  not 
to  urge  this  request  until  his  parents  con- 
ceded, and  sent  him  for  the  winter  half  of  the 
year  to  Göttingen ;  but  his  secret  object  was, 
to  leave  the  order  in  which  he  was  enrolled,  and 
to  notify  it  to  the  pro-rector ;  which  he  could 
not  do  at  Marburg,  without  exciting  fresh  dis- 
turbance. Just  at  that  time,  all  academic  or- 
ders were  prohibited  by  the  Diet  at  Ratisbon, 
and  the  universities  began  the  examination. 
Jacob  had  fortunately  already  given  in  his  res- 


ignation to  the  pro-rector  of  the  oraer,  and  re- 
ceived  an  attestation  to  that  effect,  and  thus  he 
escaped  the  punishment.  The  following  summer, 
when  he  was  again  in  Marburg,  the  examina- 
tion began  there  also.  To  their  great  astonish- 
ment, and  quite  unexpectedly,  they  found  his 
name  likewise  upon  the  list.  He  of  course 
stood  forth,  and  produced  his  attestation  ;  and 
the  matter  was  referred  to  the  decision  of  the 
Elector,whom  Stilling  informed  of  the  real  reason 
why  his  son  had  entered  the  order.  The  Elec- 
tor was  pleased  with  his  conduct,  and  acquitted 
him  from  all  punishment  and  responsibility. 

During  this  year,  there  arose  also  a  new  con- 
nection in  Stilling's  family.  Eliza's  two  sisters, 
Maria  and  Amalia,  both  very  good  and  amiable 
girls,  were  to  Stilling  a  real  present  from  God  ; 
he  felt  happy  in  their  society,  as  did  every  one 
who  entered  the  family  circle.  The  three  sis- 
ters bore,  as  it  were,  in  their  hands,  the  man 
who  by  labor  and  sorrow  was  almost  pressed 
down  to  the  ground. 

Amalia,  by  her  excellent  disposition,  her  beau- 
ty, and  Madonna-like  countenance,  had  made  a 
deep  impression  upon  Jacob.  At  first,  the  good 
young  man  imagined  that  it  was  not  permitted 
him  to  marry  his  step-mother's  sister.  He 
struggled  therefore  for  a  time  with  this  partial- 
ity, and  was  in  doubt  whether  it  would  not  be 
better  to  leave  his  father's  house.  However, 
he  confided  his  secret  to  his  brother-in-law 
Schwarz,  who  encouraged  him,  and  advised  him 
to  make  his  parents  acquainted  with  his  wishes. 
Stilling  and  Eliza  had  nothing  to  object  to  it, 
but  gave  them  both  their  blessing  and  their  con- 
sent to  the  marriage,  as  soon  as  Jacob  was  pro- 
vided for  ;  but  this  was  not  till  after  the  lapse 
of  seven  years.  During  this  period,  the  con- 
duct of  both,  as  well  their  character,  was  blame- 
less ;  but  in  order  to  avoid  the  tongue  of  calum- 
ny, he  undertook,  not  long  after,  the  place  of 
governor  to  a  young  gentleman  who  was  stu- 
dying the  law  at  Marburg,  to  whose  residence 
he  removed  ;  and  did  not  again  live  with  his- 
parents  until  he  married  Amalia. 

This  autumn  also,  the  Elector  appointed 
young  Coing  chaplain  to  the  embassy  at  Ratis- 
bon, which  office  he  filled  for  some  years,  with 
distinguished  approbation. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

In  this  state  of  things,  commenced  tne  yeai 
1795.  On  the  4th  of  January,  Eliza  was  hap- 
pily delivered  of  a  son,  who  received  the  name 
of  Friedrich,  and  is  still  living.  A  fortnight  af- 
terwards, on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  Stilling  re- 
ceived the  mournful  intelligence  that  his  old  and 
intimate  friend  Kraft,  who  was  his  uncle  by 
marriage,  had  suddenly  been  called  into  eternity. 
Stilling  wept  aloud  ;  for  it  was  a  loss  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  replace. 

The  manner  in  which  this  excellent  man  and 
celebrated  preacher  died,  was  strikingly  beauti- 
ful; he  was  sitting  with  his  worthy  consort,  a 
daughter,  and  one  or  two  good  friends,  at  the 
supper-table;  all  were  cheerful,  and  Kraft  par- 
ticularly lively.  He  was  wont  to  return  thanks 
aloud  at  table,  which  he  was  also  about  to  do  on 
this  occasion.  After  supper  was  ended,  he 
arose,  looked  upwards,  began  to  prav  and  at.the 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


141 


same  moment  the  Lord  received  his  spirit;  he 
sank  down,  and  died  on  the  spot. 

Kraft  was  a  learned  theologian,  and  a  man  of 
great  biblical  research.  Without  possessing 
particular  pulpit  eloquence,  he  was  an  eminent 
and  popular  preacher;  in  every  sermon  some- 
thing might  be  learnt.  He  always  excited  the 
attention,  and  irresistibly  touched  the  heart. 
When  I  was  once  in  his  church  at  Frankfort,  a 
Prussian  officer  came  and  sat  down  by  me;  I 
saw  that  he  was  merely  there  in  order  to  have 
been  at  church.  The  door-keeper  came  and 
laid  a  hymn-book  before  each  of  us,  open  at  the 
hymn.  The  officer  looked  coolly  into  it,  and 
that  was  all ;  he  did  not  at  all  look  at  me,  which 
was  certainly  quite  at  his  own  option.  At  length 
Kraft  entered  the  pulpit ;  the  officer  looked  up, 
just  as  a  person  looks  when  he  knows  not  wheth- 
er he  has  looked  or  not.  Kraft  prayed ;  the  offi- 
cer looked  up  a  few  times,  without  taking  any 
further  notice.  Kraft  preached;  but  now  the 
head  of  the  officer  was  immoveable;  his  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  preacher,  and  his  mouth 
was  wide  open,  as  if  to  swallow  every  thing  that 
Kraft  brought  forth  out  of  the  good  treasure  of 
his  heart.  When  he  pronounced  the  "Amen," 
the  officer  turned  to  me,  and  said,  "  I  never  heard 
such  a  sermon  in  all  my  life." 

Kraft  was  a  man  endowed  with  wisdom,  and 
consistent  in  all  his  actions.  His  heart  burned 
with  love  to  hio  Redeemer,  and  he  was  thence 
a  faithful  follower  of  Him.  He  was  indescri- 
bably beneficent,  and  in  this,  his  pious  consort 
was  his  faithful  helpmate;  when  it  was  needful, 
and  the  gift  would  be  well  applied,  he  could  joy- 
fully contribute  a  hundred  guilders,  and  that  in 
such  an  agreeable  manner,  that  it  appeared  as 
if  the  greatest  kindness  were  shown  him  by  ta- 
king the  money  of  him.  When  he  was  still  a 
student,  a  poor  man  begged  alms  of  him,  but  as 
he  had  no  money,  he  immediately  took  his  silver 
buckles  from  his  shoes,  and  gave  them  to  him. 
Although  he  was  very  orthodox,  yet  he  was  the 
most  tolerant  man  in  the  world,  and  polite  and 
hospitable  in  the  highest  degree. 

In  company,  Kraft  was  cheerful,  pleasant,  jo- 
cose, and  witty.  On  his  visit  to  Stilling,  at  Eas- 
ter, 1792,  the  latter  had  one  evening  invited  a 
company  of  good  friends  to  supper;  the  conver- 
sation turned  upon  the  exchequer*  courts  of  the 
German  princes,  and  on  the  ruinous  principles 
which,  in  some  cases,  prevailed  in  them,  to  the 
great  detriment  of  the  rulers  and  their  subjects. 
At  length  Kraft,  who  had  hitherto  been  silent, 
began  with  his  usual  pathos,  and  said,  "  Though 
they  should  say  unto  you  that  Christ  is  in  the  se- 
cret chambers,  believe  it  not." 

Blessed  art  thou,  dear  man  of  God! — the  con- 
sideration of  joyfully  meeting  thee  again  in  the 
kingdom  of  God,  is  a  cordial  to  thy  friend  Still- 
ing on  his  painful  pilgrimage. 

Kraft  was  replaced  by  the  pious  preacher 
Passavant  of  Detmold,  Stilling's  intimate  friend. 
Besides  his  deeply  afflicted  consort,  he  left  be- 
hind him  three  daughters,  the  eldest  of  whom 
had  been  married  some  years  before,  to  his 
worthy  colleague  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hausknecht; 
the  laiter  is  likewise  a  truly  christian  and  evan- 
gelical man,  and  Stilling's  intimate  friend;  his 
house  has  taken  the  place  of  Kraft's  with  refer- 
ence to  Stilling.  The  second  daughter  married 
an  exemplary  pious  preacher  from  Bremen,  of 
the  name  of  Eisenträger,  who  was  afterwards 

*  The  German  word  here  used,  may  be  literallv  render- 
ed "  revenue  chambers. 


stationed  at  Worms,  but  soon  followed  his  fa- 
ther-in-law. The  third  daughter,  after  the  death 
of  both  her  parents,  married  a  young  and  re- 
ligiously-disposed lawyer,  of  the  name  of  Burck- 
hardi,  who  is  now  Government-Advocate  at  Dil- 
lenburg, in  the  principality  of  Nassau.  Ma- 
dame Going's  and  Madame  Kraft's  youngest 
sister,  Mademoiselle  Duising,  had  resided  for  a 
period  in  Kraft's  house ;  these  two  sisters,  Kraft's 
youngest  daughter,  and  an  old,  faithful,  and  pi- 
ous female  servant,  called  Catherine,  now  con- 
stituted the  household.  But  as  the  good  widow 
no  longer  found  any  permanent  place  of  abode 
in  Frankfort,  and  longed  to  be  at  Marburg,  her 
native  town,  amongst  her  relatives  by  blood,  Sell- 
ing hired  a  habitation  for  her;  which,  however, 
she  left  at  the  year's  end,  and  removed,  with 
Stilling  and  his  family,  into  the  ancient  family^ 
house,  where  they  alL  lived  together  in  christian 
affection  and  harmony. 

Stilling's  melancholy  turn  of  mind,  and  the 
pressure  of  occupation,  which  was  almost  insu- 
perable, occasioned  him  and  his  Eliza  to  hire  a 
country-house  at  Ockershausen,  a  village  a  mile 
distant  from  Marburg,  and  there  pass  the  great- 
est part  of  the  summer;  in  order  that  from  a 
pure  and  free  atmosphere,  and  the  beauties  of 
nature,  they  might  derive  invigoration,  refresh- 
ment, and  recreation.  Eliza  also  stood  in  need 
of  all  this  ;  for  by  the  convulsive  affection  in  her 
neck,  the  free  motion  of  the  pectoral  muscles 
was  impeded,  in  consequence  of  which  she 
felt  always  more  or  less  oppression  on  the  chest, 
with  which  she  is  troubled  even  to  the  present 
time,  and  which  occasionally  renders  her  ex- 
tremely dejected.  Her  path  much  resembles 
Stilling's;  and  this  makes  her  husband,  who 
loves  her  tenderly,  often  feel  his  burden  the  more 
heavily. 

From  that  time  Stilling  dwelt  with  his  family, 
for  four  years  together,  during  a  great  part  of 
the  spring,  summer,  and  autumn,  at  Ockershau- 
sen, in  a  pretty  house,  to  which  a  beautiful  or- 
chard with  an  arbour  is  attached,  and  from 
which  there  is  a  fine  prospect  to  the  Lahnberg. 
But  he  continued  to  read  his  lectures  in  his 
house  in  the  city. 

One  morning,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1796, 
a  handsome  young  man,  in  a  green  silk-plush 
coat,  and  otherwise  well-dressed,  came  to  Still- 
ing's house  at  Ockershausen. 

This  gentleman  introduced  himself  in  such  a 
manner  as  betrayed  a  polished  and  genteel  ed- 
ucation. Stilling  inquired  who  he  was,  and 
learned  that  he  was  the  remarkable  .  Still- 
ing was  astonished  at  the  visit;  and  his  aston- 
ishment was  increased  by  the  expectation  of 
wfiat  this  extremely  enigmatical  individual  might 
have  to  communicate.  After  both  had  sat  down, 
the  stranger  began  by  saying  that  he  wished  to 
consult  Stilling  relative  to  a  person  diseased  in 
the  eye.  However,  the  real  object  of  his  visit 
pressed  him  in  such  a  manner  that  he  soon  be- 
gan to  weep,  kissed  first  Stilling's  hand,  then  his 
arm,  and  said,  "Sir,  are  you  not  the  author  of 
the  Nostalgia7?"    "Yes  sir." 

"  You  are  therefore  one  of  my  secret  superi- 
ors !"  (here  he  again  kissed  Stilling's  hand  and 
arm,  and  wept  almost  aloud.) 

Sailing. — "No,  dear  sir!  I  am  neither  your 
nor  any  one  else's  secret  superior.  I  am  not  in 
any  secret  connection  whatever." 

The  stranger  looked  at  Stillin?  with  a  fixed 
eye  and  inward  emotion,  and  replied,  "Dearest 
friend,  cease  to  conceal  yourself!    I  have  been 


142  HEINRICH 

tried  long  and  severely  enough;  I  thought  you 
knew  me  already !" 

Stilling.— "No,  Mr.  .  I  assure  you  sol- 
emnly, that  I  stand  in  no  secret  connection,  and 
in  reality  understand  nothing  of  all  that  you  ex- 
pect from  me." 

This  speech  was  too  strong  and  too  serious  to 
leave  the  stranger  in  uncertainty;  it  was  now 
his  turn  to  be  astonished  and  amazed.  He 
therefore  continued :  "  But  tell  me,  then,  how  it 
is  that  you  know  any  thing  of  the  great  and  ven- 
erable connection  in  the  east,  which  you  have 
so  circumstantially  described  in  the  Nostalgia, 
and  have  even  minutely  pointed  out  their  ren- 
dezvous in  Egypt,  on  Mount  Sinai,  in  the 
monastery  of  Canobin,  and  under  the  temple  at 
Jerusalem  V 

Stilling. — "I  know  nothing  at  all  of  all  this; 
but  these  ideas  and  conceptions  presented  them- 
selves in  a  very  lively  manner  to  my  imagi- 
nation.   It  was  therefore  mere  fable  and  fiction." 

;t  Pardon  me,  the  matter  is  in  truth  and  reality 
as  you  have  described  it ;  it  is  astonishing  that 
you  have  hit  it  in  such  a  manner! — this  cannot 
possibly  have  come  by  chance  I" 

The  gentleman  now  related  the  real  particu- 
lars of  the  association  in  the  East.  Stilling  was 
astonished  and  amazed  beyond  measure;  for 
he  heard  remarkable  and  extraordinary  things, 
which  are  not  however  of  such  a  nature  as  can 
be  made  public.  I  only  affirm,  that  what  Still- 
ing learned  from  this  gentleman  had  not  the  most 
remote  reference  to  political  matters. 

About  the  same  time,  a  certain  great  prince 
wrote  to  him,  and  asked  him  whence  it  was  that 
he  knew  any  thing  of  the  association  in  the  East ;  for 
the  thing  was  as  he  had  described  it  in  the  Nostalgia. 
The  answer  in  writing  was  naturally  the  same 
as  that  given  verbally  to  the  above-mentioned 
stranger. 

Stilling  has  experienced  several  things  of  this 
kind,  in  which  his  imagination  exactly  accorded 
with  the  real  fact,  without  previously  having 
the  least  knowledge  or  presentiment  of  it.  In 
the  sequel,  two  cases  of  this  kind  will  be  related. 
How  it  is,  and  what  it  is,  God  knows  !  Stilling 
makes  no  reflections  upon  the  matter,  but  lets 
it  stand  upon  its  own  value,  and  looks  upon  it 
as  the  direction  of  Providence,  which  purposes 
leading  him  in  a  distinguished  manner. 

The  development  of  the  eastern  mystery  is, 
however,  a  most  important  matter  to  him,  be- 
cause it  has  reference  to  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Much,  indeed,  remains  in  obscurity;  for  Stilling 
afterwards  also  heard  from  another  person  of 
great  consequence,  something  of  an  oriental 
alliance,  which  was  of  a  very  different  kind,  and 
likewise  not  of  a  political  nature.  It  remains  to 
be  developed,  whether  the  two  are  entirely  dis- 
tinct, or  stand  more  or  less  in  connexion  with 
each  other. 

Other  extraordinary  and  remarkable  discov- 
eries were  added  to  these.  Stilling  received  in- 
formation from  various  sou  gees  of  apparitions 
from  the  world  of  spirits,  of  the  reappearance  of 
persons  of  all  classes,  some  long  and  others 
recently  deceased ;  of  remarkable  presentiments, 
discoveries,  &c., — all  of  which  are  demonstra- 
tively proved  to  be  true.*  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  not  one  of  them  is  of  a  nature  to  be  made 
public;  but  this  is  generally  the  case  in  such 


*  See  his  "Theory  of  Pneumatology,"  supported  by  a 
series  of  highly  interesting  facts  of  supernatural  phenome- 
na ;  with  copious  notes  to  the  same  elfect  by  the  translator. 
— Longman  &  Co. 


STILLING. 

matters;  the  words  are  also  applicable  here, 
"They  have  Moses  and  the  prophets;"  and  we 
possess  besides  these,  Christ  and  his  apostles ; 
we  are  not  referred  to  such  extraordinary  sources 
of  information.  Sailing's  ideas  of  Hades,  of  the 
world  of  spirits,  of  the  state  of  the  soul  after 
death,  next  to  the  hints  thrown  out  in  the  Scrip- 
tures for  consideration,  are  derived  from  these 
sources.  Yet  still,  these  are  not  articles  of  faith; 
let  every  one  think  of  them  what  he  pleases ; 
only  let  him  not  condemn  them,  for  by  so  doing 
he  would  at  the  same  time  condemn  himself. 

The  year  of  1796  was  a  year  of  terror  and 
misery  to  the  whole  of  Lower  Germany.  The 
crossing  of  the  Rhine  by  the  French,  their  march 
to  Franconia,  and  their  subsequent  retreat,  filled 
the  whole  country  with  indescribable  wretched- 
ness; and  as  Hessia  was  at  peace,  the  people 
fled  from  all  parts  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Mar- 
burg. On  numbering  on  one  occasion,  by  order 
of  the  magistracy,  the  foreign  fugitives  that 
resided  there,  there  were  found  in  Marburg  and 
the  adjacent  towns  and  villages,  forty-five  thou- 
sand. It  was  pitiable  to  see  how  people  of  all 
ranks,  in  an  endless  train,  in  carriages,  carts, 
and  waggons,  drawn  by  oxen,  horses,  cows,  and 
mules,  with  rich  or  wretched  baggage,  on  foot, 
on  horseback,  or  on  asses,  barefooted,  in  shoes, 
or  in  boots,  with  misery  and  woe  depicted  on 
their  faces,  filled  the  roads,  and  with  loud  thanks- 
givings blessed  the  prince  who  had  made  peace. 

Stilling's  mind  was  extremely  oppressed  by 
all  this,  and  also  by  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the 
times,  which  laughed  to  scorn  all  that  is  holy ; 
and  his  desire  to  labor  for  the  Lord  increased. 
All  this  had  induced  him,  in  the  preceding  year, 
to  publish  a  periodical  work  entitled,  "  The  Grey 
Man,"  which  very  unexpectedly  met  with  great 
approbation ;  on  which  account  he  still  contin- 
ues it.  It  is  not  only  much  read  in  every  prov- 
ince of  Germany,  but  also,  like  the  "  Nostalgia," 
in  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  I  have  myself 
seen  American  newspapers,  in  the  German  lan- 
guage, in  which  the  "Grey  Man"  was  inserted 
by  piece-meal,  under  promise  of  its  continuation. 

Amongst  the  many  fugitives  were  two  very  es- 
timable personages,  who  were  particularly  im- 
portant to  Stilling  and  his  family.  Prince 
Frederick  of  Anhalt-Bernberg-Schaumberg,  a 
true  Christian  in  the  purest  sense  of  the  word, 
hired  a  house  in  Marburg;  and  his  next  relative 
by  blood,  the  Countess  Louisa  of  Wittgenstein- 
Berlenburgberg,  resided  with  him.  The  moth- 
ers of  both  were  sisters,  the  Countesses  Henck- 
el  of  Donnersmark,  and  real  Christians,  who 
brought  up  their  children  excellently,  and  in  the 
fear  of  God.  These  two  noble  individuals  in 
every  respect  honored  Stilling  and  Eliza  with 
their  confidential  intercourse;  and  they  were 
truly  angels  of  consolation  and  of  succour  both 
to  them  and  their  family,  during  their  five  years' 
residence  in  Marburg.  This  excellent  prince 
and  amiable  countess  dwelt  there  from  the  sum- 
mer of  1796  to  the  autumn  of  1801. 

At  the  same  time,  Stilling  also  entered  into 
nearer  connection  with  two  absent  princes;  the 
universally-acknowledged  excellent  and  pious 
Elector  of  Baden  wrote  to  him  occasionally; 
and  Prince  Charles  of  Hesse,  a  real  and  very 
enlightened  Christian,  entered  into  a  regular  cor- 
respondence with  him,  which  is  still  continued. 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

It  is  now  time  for  me  again  to  notice  father 
Wilhelm  Stilling,  and  embody  the  history  of  the 
rest  of  his  life  with  this.  His  second  marriage 
had  not  been  blessed.  Notwithstanding  all  his 
striving,  labouring,  and  sparing,  he  continually 
lost  ground,  and  was  ever  deeper  in  debt;  and 
his  four  children  by  the  second  marriage — three 
daughters  and  one  son,  all  worthy  and  honest 
people — were  all  poor  and  unfortunate.  The 
old  patriarch  saw  them  all  about  him,  and  be- 
held their  misery  without  being  able  to  help 
them.  Stilling,  meanwhile,  lived  at  a  distance, 
and  knew  little  of  all  this ;  indeed,  he  was  utterly 
ignorant  that  it  fared  so  very  ill  with  his  father. 
Wilhelm,  however,  had  more  than  one  good 
reason  for  concealing  his  true  situation  from 
his  son ;  for  he  had  formerly  often  expressed 
himself  to  him  to  the  effect  that  he  would  rather 
eat  dry  bread  than  be  supported  by  one  of  his 
children.  But  the  following  idea  probably  lay 
heavy  on  his  heart:  he  had  often  most  bitterly  re- 
proached his  son  in  his  misery,  respecting  his  cir- 
cumstances, and  told  him  he  icas  a  lost  man;  that 
he  teas  good  for  nothing ;  that  he  icould  cause  him 
nothing  but  shame  and  disgrace;  that  he  icould  be 
at  length  obliged  to  beg  his  bread,  &c.  To  surfer 
himself  now  to  be  supported  by  this  very  son,  or 
to  be  dependant  upon  him,  was  probably  a  very 
difficult  matter  to  the  good  old  man's  honorable 
feelings.  However,  Stilling  heard  by  degrees  in 
Marburg  more  of  his  father's  true  situation ;  and 
although  he  had  himself  a  heavy  debt  to  liqui- 
date, he  thought  that  in  such  a  case  he  might 
make  an  exception  to  the  well-known  rule,  "as 
long  as  a'person  is  in  debt,  he  ought  not  to  ap- 
ply money  to  other  purposes."  He  determined, 
therefore,  after  considering  the  matter  with 
Eliza,  to  contribute  a  dollar  weekly  for  the  sup- 
port of  his  aged  father,  and  occasionally  to  send 
him  as  much  coffee  and  sugar  as  the  two  old 
folks — for  the  mother  was  still  living — required. 
Eliza  also  sent  to  Liendorf  now  and  then,  when 
she  found  a  fitting  opportunity,  a  bottle  of  wine 
to  cheer  them. 

At  length,  Wilhelm  Stilling's  second  wife  died 
suddenly.  He  then  gave  up  the  housekeeping 
to  his  youngest  daughter,  who  had  married  a 
carrier,  and  boarded  with  her.  However,  it 
went  hard  with  this  poor  woman  ;  her  husband 
was  always  from  home  with  his  horse,  and  being 
too  poor  to  procure  what  was  needful  without 
laboring  from  early  in  the  morning  till  late  in 
the  evening,  in  the  field  and  garden,  the  good  old 
man  was  entirely  destitute  of  necessary  atten- 
tion. The  other  children  were  equally  unable 
to  do  any  thing  for  him,  for  they  could  scarcely 
subsist  themselves,  much  less  assist  others;  in  a 
word,  their  wretchedness  was  great. 

Wilhelm  Stilling  was  at  that  time  in  his 
eightieth  year,  and  in  excellent  health ;  but  his 
feet,  which  were  always  weak  and  infirm,  now 
broke  out  into  ulcerous  swellings;  his  mental 
powers  also  began  to  fade,  and  his  memory,  in 
particular,  failed  him  extremely. 

At  length,  in  August,  1796,  Stilling  received  a 
letter  from  a  relative,  who  had  visited  the  pious 
old  man,  and  had  witnessed  all  his  wo.  This 
letter  contained  a  description  of  his  misery,  and 
called  upon  Stilling  to  take  his  father  to  him, 
before  he  perished  in  his  sufferings.  Stilling 
had  not  known  the  extent  of  them  before.  He 
instantly  sent  for  him,  and  had  him  brought  in 
a  conveyance  to  Marburg.   On  being  told,  at 


Ockershausen,  that  his  father  was  in  his  house 
at  Marburg,  he  hastened  thither  to  welcome  him ; 
but,  as  he  entered  the  room,  a  pestilential  efflu- 
via met  him,  such  as  he  had  never  experienced, 
in  a  dissecting-room.  He  could  scarcely  ap- 
proach him  to  kiss  and  embrace  him.  The  dis- 
tress was  greater  than  I  can  describe.  It  was 
an  advantage  to  the  good  man  that  his  mental 
faculties  were  already  so  decayed  that  he  did  not 
particularly  feel  his  misery.  A  few  years  pre- 
vious, it  would  have  been  intolerable  to  his  feel- 
iugs  of  decorum  and  habitual  cleanliness. 

Stilling's  heart  bled  at  the  sight;  but  Eliza, 
who  had  often  wished  that  she  might  have  the 
happiness  of  tending  her  parents  in  their  old 
age,  began  the  work  with  joy.  Great  boast  has 
always  been  made  of  holy  individuals  of  the 
Romish  Church,  and  it  has  been  esteemed  ex- 
traordinarily meritorious  in  them,  that  they 
bound  up  the  putrifying  ulcers  of  poor  invalids 
in  the  hospitals  and  lazarettos ;  here  more  was 
done,  much  mo?-e!  Thou  wilt  on  no  account  con- 
sent, kind  and  noble-minded  consort,  that  I  should 
here  say  any  thing  to  thy  praise,  and  I  am  silent ; 
but  Father  Wilhelm,  who  has  no  longer  suffi- 
cient understanding  to  recognize  thy  unexam- 
pled, childlike  love,  and  is  unable  to  bless  thee 
for  it,  will  eventually  meet  thee,  in  his  glorified 
form,  thou  faithful  sufferer,  thou  companion  of 
Stilling's  life  and  afflictions,  and  return  thee,  in 
an  abundant  measure,  the  thanks  omitted  here  i 
Doris  hovers  near,  holding  him  by  the  hand,  to- 
welcome  her  daughter  Eliza ;  father  Eberhard 
Stilling  smiles  peace  to  thee;  and  Selma  will 
also  embrace  her  friend,  and  say,  "  Blessed  art 
thou,  for  having  so  excellently  fulfilled  my  ex- 
pectations !"  All  these  glorified  ones  will  then 
conduct  thee  before  the  throne  of  the  Most  Mer- 
ciful, who  will  incline  the  sceptre  of  all  worlds 
towards  thy  forehead,  and  say,  "  What  thou  hast 
done  to  this  my  servant,  thou  hast  also  done  to 
me ;  go  thy  way,  thou  inhabitant  of  the  new  Je- 
rusalem, and  enjoy  the  fulness  of  felicity." 

Eliza  continued  this  painful  labour  of  love  till 
the  month  of  October,  when  she  was  again  con- 
fined of  a  daughter,  who  is  still  living,  and  bears 
the  name  of  Amalia.  Amalia  Coing,  the  future 
grand-daughter-in-law  of  Wilhelm  Stilling,  now 
undertook  the  task  of  attending  to  him,  for  which 
it  will  be  well  with  her,  and  her  reward  will  be 
great  in  time  and  eternity. 

The  close  of  the  year  1796  was  melancholy  j 
a  brother  of  the  late  Madame  Coing  and  Aunt 
Kraft  died  in  the  autumn.  He  was  a  lawyer  in 
Frankenburg,  unmarried,  and  expired  suddenly, 
in  consequence  of  an  apoplectic  fit.  Another 
brother,  who  was  likewise  unmarried,  and  pro- 
thonotary  at  Dortheim  in  the  Wetterau,  came, 
in  order  to  arrange  his  brother's  affairs  in 
Frankenburg,  and  died,  ten  days  before  Christ- 
mas, in  Stilling's  house.  In  consequence  of 
these  repeated  strokes,  the  good  Widow  Kraft, 
whose  daughter  Eisenträger  had  also  returned 
to  her  the  previous  summer  as  a  widow,  was 
quite  cast  down  to  the  ground ;  she  likewise 
took  to  her  bed,  and  died  on  Christmas-day,  qui- 
etly and  happily,  like  her  sister  Coing.  There 
still  remained  Mademoiselle  Duising,  Widow 
Eisenträger,  and  the  unmarried  Miss  Kraft,  with 
her  worthy  old  Catherine.  Miss  Kraft  married, 
during  the  following  year,  Mr.  Burckhardi,  of 
Dillenburg;  and  the  remaining  three  members 
of  the  estimable  circle  of  the  late  Mr.  Kraft  now 
live  in  Von  Ham's  family  mansion  in  Marburg, 
which  is  the  property  of  Aunt  Duising. 


144  HEINRICH 

The  worthy  Schwarz  had  also  something  of 
■a  severe  nature  to  suffer  with  his  consort,  in  the 
year  I79(i;  he  had  lei t  his  solitary  Dexbach,  and 
had  accepted  a  living  ut  Echzell  in  the  Wetterau, 
■where  he  was  exposed  to  all  the  horrors  of  war. 
Hannah  was  also  amongst  the  Ibrty-five  thou- 
sand refugees;  and  she  passed  her  third  confine- 
ment quietly  at  her  parents'  in  Marburg,  and 
then  set  off  again  to  her  post. 

The  year  1797  was  not  particularly  remark- 
able in  Sailing's  history.  Every  thing  proceeded 
iu  its  customary  course,  except  that  Stilling's  in- 
ward sufferings  were  rather  increased  than  di- 
minished ;  an  inward  melancholy  continually 
oppressed  him  ;  an  indescribable  cheerlessness 
deprived  him  of  every  enjoyment.  The  only 
thing  which  sustained  him  was  his  domestic 
circle,  in  which  every  one  felt  happy  who  en- 
tered it.  Eliza  and  her  two  sisters,  Maria  and 
Amalia,  were  the  instruments  the  Lord  made 
use  of  to  lighten  the  load  of  his  crossbearer,  al- 
though Eliza  herself  almost  sunk  beneath  the 
burden. 

Father  Wilhelm  Stilling  experienced  nothing 
of  this;  he  was  childish,  and  became  more  and 
more  so;  and,  in  order  that  he  might  not  want 
attention  in  any  way,  Stilling  sent  for  his  eldest 
•sister's  daughter,  Maria,  who  faithfully  fulfilled 
her  duty  to  her  grandfather,  until  attendance 
upon  him  was  no  longer  proper  for  a  young  girl, 
and  an  old  widow  was  engaged,  who  waited 
upon  him  day  and  night.  Maria's  character 
developed  itself  advantageously ;  she  enjoys  the 
esteem  and  love  of  all  good  men,  and  is  beloved 
by  Stilling  and  Eliza  as  their  child.  It  grad- 
ually came  to  such  a  length  with  Father  Wil- 
helm, that  he  knew  no  one,  and,  in  the  end,  not 
even  his  son.  Respecting  his  second  marriage 
and  children  he  scarcely  remembered  any  thing; 
but  occasionally  spoke  in  an  unconnected  man- 
ner of  his  marriage  with  Doris,  and  of  his  youth- 
ful years.  No  sooner,  however,  was  the  subject 
of  religion  introduced,  than  his  spirit  returned  to 
him;  he  then  spoke  connectedly  and  rationally; 
and  when  this  also  ceased  to  be  the  case,  his 
mental  faculties  still  clung  to  a  few  texts  of 
Scripture  respecting  the  forgiveness  of  sins 
through  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ, 
which  he  repeated  times  without  number,  wring- 
ing his  hands  and  shedding  many  tears,  and 
comforting  himself  with  them  in  his  sufferings. 
From  this  instance  may  be  learnt  how  important 
it  is  to  fill  the  memory  of  children  early  with 
edifying  texts  of  Scripture  and  verses  of  hymns. 
The  first  impressions  on  the  memory  of  children 
can  never  be  erased.  Such  passages  and  verses 
may  be  apparently  of  little  service  to  them  in 
their  youth  ;  but  when,  in  old  age,  they  have 
to  travel  through  Wilhelm  Stilling's  desert,  in 
which,  solitary  and  divested  of  all  susceptibility 
of  social  life  and  of  their  own  existence,  they 
retain  only  a  small  glimmer  of  reason  for  their 
guide — when  they  have  thus  forgotten  their  whole 
course  of  life,  such  passages  and  verses  are  as 
bread  from  heaven,  which  strengthens  the  indi- 
vidual in  crossing  the  awful  stream  of  death. 
Generally  speaking,  they  are  an  excellent  means 
of  invigoration  and  comfort  in  distress  and  death. 

In  the  midsummer- vacation  of  the  year  1797, 
Stilling  and  Eliza  experienced  another  remark- 
able instance  of  Divine  providence.  He  had 
certainly  a  considerable  income,  but  also  an 
equally  considerable  and  necessary  expenditure ; 
for,  at  that  time,  every  thing  was  dear  at  Mar- 
burg.   Every  housekeeper  will  remember  sea- 


S  TILL  IN  G. 

sons  in  which  a  variety  of  circumstances  con- 
curred in  causing  a  demand  for  money,  from 
which  he  knew  not  how  to  escape,  and  in  which 
he  was  not  in  a  situation  to  be  able,  or  to  ven- 
ture to  increase  his  debts.  It  was  much  such  a 
situation  as  this  in  which  Stilling,  or  rather  his 
Eliza,  found  herself,  who  had  trodden  in  Selma's 
lootsteps,  and  had  undertaken,  quite  alone,  the 
care  of  the  housekeeping  and  the  management 
of  the  cash.  A  very  worthy  and  respectable 
lady  in  Switzerland  had  written  to  Stilling  some 
time  before,  and  asked  his  advice  regarding  the 
blindness  of  her  husband.  Just  at  this  pressing 
emergency,  as  Stilling  was  with  the  students  at 
Cassel,  and  had  made  his  customary  midsum- 
mer excursion  with  them,  he  received  a  letter 
from  this  lady,  with  a  bill  of  exchange  for  three 
hundred  guilders.  She  mentioned,  at  the  same 
time,  that  Stilling  must  never  think  of  repay- 
ment, or  of  rendering  any  service  for  it;  she  felt 
herself  impelled  to  send  this  trifle,  and  begged  he 
would  think  no  more  of  the  matter.  The  pres- 
sure was  thus  all  at  once  removed,  which  much 
strengthened  Eliza's  faith. 

There  was  added,  this  year,  another  very  esti- 
mable personage  to  the  most  important  of  Still- 
ing's friends ;  the  Countess  Christina  of  Wal- 
deck,  widow  of  Count  Josias  of  Waldeck-Berg- 
heim,  and  born  Countess  of  Isenburg-Büdingen, 
determined  to  send  her  two  younger  sons  to 
Marburg,  that  they  might  study  there.  She 
finally  resolved  to  remove  to  Marburg  herself, 
with  her  amiable  daughter,  the  Countess  Caro- 
line, till  her  sons  should  have  finished  their 
studies.  It  cannot  be  described  what  a  valuable 
associate  this  pious  lady  was  to  Stilling  and 
Eliza  —  how  variously  her  heart,  which  was 
formed  for  philanthropy,  was  occupied  with 
showing  it  in  word  and  deed.  She  harmonized 
entirely  with  Prince  Frederick  of  Anhalt  and  the 
Countess  Louisa;  all  three  had  the  opportunity 
of  communicating  their  sorrows  to  Stilling  and 
Eliza,  and  of  conversing  confidentially  with  them 
respecting  all  their  affairs. 

The  year  1798  is  remarkable  in  Stilling's  his- 
tory; because  in  it  he  wrote  his  "History  of  the 
Triumph  of  the  Christian  Religion,  in  an  Expo- 
sition of  the  Revelations  of  John,  adapted  for 
general  usefulness,"  and  then  made  his  first  con- 
siderable journey  with  his  Eliza. 

The  "  History  of  the  Triumph,"  &c,  origi- 
nated as  follows.  The  important  results  pro- 
duced by  the  French  Revolution,  and  the  events 
which  occurred  in  several  places,  everywhere 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  true  servants 
of  the  Lord  who  observed  the  signs  of  the  times. 
Several  individuals  now  began  to  apply  certain 
parts  of  the  Revelation  to  those  times,  without 
regarding  the  whole  connexion  of  prophecy  and 
its  spirit  in  the  Bible  generally.  Very  sensible 
men  already  held  the  French  cockade  to  be  "  the 
mark  of  the  beast;"  and  therefore  believed  that 
the  beast  had  already  ascended  from  the  bottom- 
less pit,  and  that  "the  man  of  sin"  was  already 
in  existence.  This  pretty  general  sensation 
amongst  true  Christians  excited  Stilling's  consid- 
eration, and  he  sought,  in  "The  Grey  Man,"  to 
warn  them  against  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  appeared  to  him  ex- 
tremely remarkable,  that  the  well-known,  pious, 
and  learned  prelate,  Bengel,  had  fifty  years  be- 
fore pointedly  foretold,  in  his  Exposition  of  the 
Apocalypse,  that  in  the  last  ten  years  of  the 
eighteenth  centurv  the  great  conflict  would  com- 
mence, and  the  Romish  throne  be  overturned. 


4 


STILLING'S  YEA 

This  had  been  made  still  more  minutely  evident, 
by  an  anonymous  writer  in  Carlsruhe,  in  a  more 
exact  and  precise  explanation  of  the  Bengelie 
Apocalyptical  system  of  calculation,  which  even 
determined  the  years,  in  the  last  decenniary  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  in  which  Rome  was  to 
be  overthrown  ;  and  this  eighteen  years  before  it 
really  took  place.  All  this  drew  Selling's  at- 
tention to  Bengel's  writings,  and  particularly  to 
the  book  just  mentioned  by  the  anonymous  au- 
thor in  Carlsruhe. 

Two  circumstances  also  were  connected  with 
this,  which  operated  upon  Sailing's  mind,  and 
prepared  it  for  so  important  a  work.  The  "  Nos- 
talgia" had  made  a  deep  and  beneficial  impres- 
sion upon  several  members  of  the  Moravian 
church;  he  became  more  known  in  that  com- 
Biunity;  the  history  of  his  life  began  to  be  read 
more  universally ;  "and  his  other  writings,  par- 
ticularly "The  Grey  .Man,"  were  generally  rec- 
ognized as  edifying.  He  was  visited  by  Mora- 
vians who  were  passing  through  Marburg,  and 
he  read  many  of  their  works.  In  short,  the  Mo- 
ravians became  more  and  more  estimable  to 
him ;  particularly  from  observing  that  in  their 
writings  generally,  and  especially  in  their  church 
and  missionary  intelligence,  as  also  in  their  con- 
ference minutes,  which  were  sent  to  him,  an  un- 
commonly rapid  progress  in  the  perfectionating 
of  lite  and  doctrine  was  evident;  and  that  all 
their  institutions  were  guided  in  a  most  distin- 
guished manner  by  Providence,  and  crowned 
with  its  blessing;  and  what  finally  produced  a 
more  intimate  union,  was,  a  correspondence 
with  a  dear  and  worthy  preacher  of  the  Mora- 
vian church,  brother  Erxleben,  who  had  former- 
ly filled  the  pastoral  office  in  Bremen,  and  af- 
terwards at  Norden  in  East  Friesland,  but  is 
bow  a  class-leader  at  Herrnhut.  The  corre- 
spondence with  this  worthy  man  still  continues, 
and  will  probably  not  cease  until  one  of  the  two 
shall  be  called  away  to  the  church  above. 

Stilling  discovered,  therefore,  in  this  church 
an  important  institution  for  the  preparatory  es- 
tablishment of  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  appeared 
to  him  to  be  a  seminary  for  it;  and  this  idea 
gave  him  an  important  light  into  a  principal 
hieroglyphic  of  the  Apocalypse. 

The  other  circumstance  which  prepared  Still- 
ing for  so  bold  and  important  a  work,  was  the 
great  and  very  unexpected  awakening  in  Eng- 
land ;  the  result  of  which  was  the  remarkable, 
new,  and  comprehensive  Missionary  Society. 
This  circumstance  was  so  striking,  and  the  pe- 
riod of  its  commencement  so  remarkable,  that 
no  true  servant  of  Christ  could  remain  indiffer- 
ent to  it.  In  Stilling's  mind,  it  strengthened  the 
idea  that  this  institution  also  was  a  proof  of  the 
rapid  approach  of  the  kingdom  of  God;  real 
Christians  every  where  looked  to  the  great  gold- 
en dial  on  the  turret  of  the  temple,  and  he  that 
had  weak  eyes  asked  him  whose  sight  was 
stronger,  to  what  hour  the  gnomon  pointed. 

But  notwithstanding  that  al!  this  was  passing 
in  Stilling's  soul,  yet  the  idea  of  venturing  on 
the  sacred  hieroglyphics  of  the  Apocalypse  nev- 
er entered  his  mind;  he  intended  lather  in  <:The 
Grey  Man,"  to  warn  every  one  against  such  a 
hazardous  enterprise,  because  it  had  proved  the 
confusion  of  many.  But  as  that  which  is  un- 
expected is,  on  all  occasions,  the  rule  and  max- 
im of  Providence  in  its  guidance  of  Stilling,  so 
it  was  also  in  the  present  case. 

One  Sunday  morning  in  March,  1798,  Stilling 
determined  not  to  go  to  church,  but  to  work  at 
T 


RS  OF  TUITION.  145 

I  "  The  Grey  Man,"  and  insert  in  it  something  of 
I  a  useful  natuie  lor  the  christian  reader,  res  pec  t- 
j  ing  the  book  of  Revelations.  But  in  order  to 
j  make  himself  better  acquainted  with  this  diffi- 
cult and  important  subject,  he  took  up  the  above- 
mentioned  Carlsruhe  Elucidation,  sat  down  to 
his  desk,  and  began  to  read.  Suddenly,  and 
quite  unexpectedly,  a  gentle,  inward,  and  very 
beneficial  influence  pervaded  him  ;  which  pro- 
duced in  him  the  determination  to  translate  the 
whole  Apocalypse  from  the  original  Greek,  ex- 
plain it  verse  for  verse,  and  retain  Bengel's  sys- 
tem of  calculation  ;  because  it  had  hitherto  been 
so  applicable  and  had  proved  so  remarkably 
correct.  He.  therefore  instantly  commenced 
the  work,  and  hoped  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
would  enlighten  him  in  every  obscure  passage, 
and  lead  him  into  all  truth.  Stilling's  "  Histo- 
ry of  the  Triumph  of  the  Christian  Religion"  is, 
therefore,  not  a  work  which  is  the  result  of  re- 
flection and  study  ;  but  it  was  indited  by  piece- 
meal, in  seasons  of  leisure,  during  prayer  and 
supplication  for  light  and  grace ;  and  then  sent 
off,  without  any  further  correction,  to  Rau,  the 
publisher,  at  Nürenburg.  As  soon  as  Stilling 
can  find  time,  he  will  establish,  correct,  and  ex- 
plain many  things  more  precisely,  in  the  "Ap- 
pendix to  the  History  of  the  Triumph." 

He  that  is  not  purposely  and  maliciously  dis- 
posed to  misconstrue  every  thing  and  turn  it  into 
poisoned  arrows,  but  thinks  candidly  and  reason- 
ably, will  not  accuse  Stilling  of  desiring  to  ex- 
cite in  his  readers  the  idea  that  he  wrote  from 
divine  inspiration ;  but  my  object  is  to  convince 
them  that  his  writings,  however  defective,  are 
nevertheless  under  the  peculiar  direction  of 
Providence,  of  which  his  whole  life,  as  well  as 
the  uncommon  and  unexpected  blessing  which 
rests  upon  his  writings,  is  a  pledge  to  him.  This 
was  also  the  case  with  "  The  History  of  the  Tri- 
umph ;"  for  scarcely  had  a  year  elapsed  before 
a  second  edition  of  it  was  published. 

During  the  whole  of  this  summer,  Stilling's 
melancholy  rose  to  the  highest  degree.  He  oft- 
en reflected  upon  this  circumstance,  and  employ- 
ed his  whole  medicinal  reason  in  order  to  come 
to  the  bottom  of  it ;  but  he  found  none.  It  was 
not  that  he  was  hypochondriacal,— at  least,  not 
what  is  usually  termed  so;  but  it  was,  properly 
speaking,  a  cheerlessness,  on  which  the  purest 
sensible  enjoyment  made  no  impression.  The 
whole  world  became  strange  to  him,  as  though 
it  had  no  reference  to  him.  Every  thing  that 
afforded  pleasure  to  others,  even  to  good  men, 
was  to  him  completely  indifferent.  Nothing, 
utterly  nothing  whatever,  but  the  great  object  he 
had  in  view,  which  appeared  to  him  partly  ob- 
scure and  partly  unattainable,  filled  his  whole 
soul;  he  fixed  his  eye  upon  this,  and  upon  no- 
thing besides.  His"whole  soul,  heart,  and  un- 
derstanding adhered,  with  all  the  fulness  of  af- 
fection, to  Christ,  but  only  with  a  melancholy 
feeling.  The  worst  of  it  was,  that  he  could  not 
complain  to  any  one  of  his  painful  situation,  for 
no  one  understood  him.  He  once  or  twice  dis- 
closed it  to  pious  friends  in  the  Netherlands;  but 
these  men  even  took  it  amiss  of  him,  for  suppo- 
sing himself  to  be  in  such  an  elevated  mystic 
state  ;  for  he  had  called  his  mental  condition, 
tke  state  of  olaevre  faith.  O  God!  it  is  difficult 
to  walk  the  path  of  the  sacred  cross;  but  after- 
wards it  brings  unspeakable  blessings. 

The  true  reason  why  his  heavenly  Guide  suf- 
fered him  to  fall  into  this  melancholy  disposition 
of  mind,  was  probablv,  first,  to  preserve  him 


146  HEINRICH 

from  pride,  and  from  that  vanity  which  destroys 
all  sense  of  religion  and  piety,  into  which,  with- 
out this  thorn  in  the  flesh,  he  would  certainly 
have  fallen  ;  since  so  much  of  what  was  agree- 
able and  exhilarating  was  said  concerning  him 
on  every  side,  from  far  and  near,  by  high  and 
low,  and  by  learned  and  illiterate.  In  this  state 
it  rejoiced  him  for  a  moment,  even  as  a  warm 
sunny  ray  on  a  gloomy  day  in  December;  but 
then  all  was  again  as  before,  and  he  felt  just  as 
if  it  had  no  reference  to  him.  Secondly,  the  di- 
vine Refiner  might  also  probably  have  put  this 
son  of  Levi  into  this  refining  fire  from  other  and 
higher  reasons,  in  order  radically  to  burn  up 
certain  propensities  of  corruption. 

This  state  of  mind  still  continues,  except  that, 
at  present,  an  inward  serenity  and  a  profound 
peace  of  soul  are  united  with  it. 

Eliza,  though  she  suffered  much,  was  yet  the 
only  one  among  all  his  friends  to  whom  he  could 
eniirely  reveal  and  communicate  himself.  She 
then  suffered  yet  more,  without  being  able  to 
help  him;  but  still  her  sympathy  and  faithful  at- 
tention were  invaluable  benefits  to  him,  and  her 
company,  in  particular,  made  every  thing  much 
more  tolerable.  From  that  time  they  both  ad- 
hered still  more  closely  to  each  other,  and  be- 
came reciprocally  more  indispensably  necessa- 
ry to  each  other.  Stilling's  whole  domestic  cir- 
cle, generally  speaking,  was  inexpressibly  love- 
ly and  beneficial  to  him.  It  was  also  well  that 
the  spasms  in  his  stomach  began  to  abate ;  for 
he  would  not  have  been  able  to  bear  them  with 
such  a  debilitated  frame. 

Stilling's  cataract  operations  and  ophthalmic 
cures  were  particularly  blessed,  and  he  had  hith- 
erto continued  them  uninterruptedly  from  the 
time  of  his  residence  in  Elberfeld;  but  they 
also  occasioned  him  double  difficulty.  The 
maxim  he  had  once  adopted,  and  from  which  he 
cannot  deviate,  that  of  demanding  nothing  for 
any  cataract  operation  or  other  ophthalmic  cure, 
but  ministering  it  to  every  one  gratuitously,  (un- 
less any  one  voluntarily  makes  him  an  acknowl- 
edgment, and  presents  him  with  any  thing  with- 
out any  injury  to  himself,)  attracted  an  aston- 
ishing concourse  of  persons  diseased  in  the  eye. 
He  was  interrupted  every  moment  in  his  labours 
by  such  sufferers,  and  his  patience  put  to  the 
severest  test.  But  the  second  and  still  greater 
trouble  was,  that  blind  people  were  sent  to  him 
from  all  quarters  with  testimonies  of  poverty, 
without  being  furnished  with  the  necessary  sum 
for  their  maintenance  during  the  time  of  cure. 
To  send  away  such  a  pitiable  blind  person  with- 
out assisting  him,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  guilders, 
did  not  accord  with  Stilling's  character.  The 
directors  of  the  two  Protestant  orphan-houses  in 
Marburg  had  indeed  the  goodness  to  receive 
such  blind  people,  and  attend  to  them  during  the 
cure,  for  a  moderate  payment;  but  for  the  latter 
Stilling  had  to  provide.  This  beneficial  arrange- 
ment had  also  the  troublesome  effect  of  inducing 
his  countrymen,  and  even  foreigners,  to  send 
their  poor  blind  people  without  money  the  more 
boldly.  This  caused  many  trials  of  faith  ;  but 
the  Lord  manifested  himself  gloriously  in  them 
all,  as  the  result  will  show. 

At  midsummer  of  this  year,  1798,  Doctor 
Wienholt  of  Bremen  wrote  to  Stilling,  and  re- 
quested him  to  come  thither,  because  there  were 
several  there  afflicted  with  the  cataract,  who 
wished  to  be  couched  by  him;  for  the  success 
of  his  practice  was  known  far  and  wide,  and 
spoken  of  every  where,  particularly  by  those  who 


STILLING. 

studied  at  Marburg.  Stilling  rep/ied  that  he- 
would  come  during  the  autumnal  vacation. 
This  was  carried  into  effect,  and  Eliza  determin- 
ed to  accompany  him,  although  she  was  not 
very  well.  She  had  a  twofold  reason  for  this; 
she  was  unwilling  to  be  so  long  separated  from 
her  husband,  and  he  also  required  her  support 
and  care;  besides  which,  she  wished  to  see  the 
city  from  whence  her  predecessors  on  her  moth- 
er's side  had  sprung;  for  her  ancestor  was  a 
Brabanter,  of  the  name  of  Duising,  who  had 
emigrated  under  the  Duke  of  Alba  and  settled 
in  Bremen.  Two  of  her  cousins,  men  of  great 
respectability,  were  still  living  there,  the  brothers 
Meyer,  both  of  whom  were  doctors  of  the  law ; 
one  of  them  was  one  of  the  four  presiding  burg- 
omasters, and  the  other,  secretary  to  one  of  the 
colleges.  These  relatives  also  wished  much 
that  their  Marburg  friends  would  for  once  pay 
them  a  visit. 

Stilling  and  Eliza,  therefore,  commenced  the 
journey  to  Bremen  on  Saturday,  the  22d  of  Sep- 
tember, 1798;  but  the  indisposition  of  his  good 
lady  made  the  journey  a  very  anxious  one.  He 
was  obliged  to  give  the  postillions  a  handsome 
douceur  in  order  that  they  might  drive  slowly, 
for  she  could  not  possibly  bear  a  rapid  motion. 
They  travelled  by  the  way  of  Hanover,  where 
they  were  cordially  received  and  treated  in  a 
very  friendly  manner  by  Stilling's  intimate 
friend,  Falk,  aulic  counsellor  and  consistorial 
advocate.  On  Friday  the  28th  of  September, 
they  arrived  late  in  the  evening,  but  safely,  in 
Bremen,  and  took  up  their  abode  with  Mr.  Sec- 
retary Meyer.  This  worthy  man,  and  his  ex- 
cellent spouse,  suited  Stilling  and  his  Eliza  so 
well  that  they  soon  became  as  one  heart  and  one 
soul,  and  concluded  a  brotherly  and  sisterly  al- 
liance with  each  other.  The  Burgomaster,  on 
his  side,  who  was'  personified  friendship  itself, 
did  his  best  to  afford  his  Marburg  relatives  pleas- 
ure. The  good  and  worthy  man  now  rests  in 
his  chamber;  learning,  unlimited  kindness  of 
disposition,  and  faithful  diligence  in  his  admin- 
istration, formed  the  basis  of  his  character. 

Stilling  performed  twenty-two  cataract  opera- 
tions in  Bremen ;  and  besides  these,  was  of  ser- 
vice to  many  who  were  diseased  in  the  eye. 
Amongst  the  cataract  patients,  was  an  old  man 
of  the  middle  class,  who  had  been  blind  many 
years,  and  had  therefore  retrograded  in  his  cir- 
cumstances. Several  ladies  requested  Stilling- 
to  let  them  be  present  at  the  operation,  for  they 
wished  to  be  spectators  of  the  joy  which  would 
be  manifested  by  one  who  had  been  blind  so 
long.  The  operation  proved  successful,  and 
Stilling  then  permitted  him  to  look  about  him; 
the  patient  did  so,  struck  his  hands  together,  and 
said,  "Oh,  there  are  ladies,  and  it  looks  so  dis- 
orderly here  I"  The  good  ladies  knew  not  what 
to  say  or  think,  and  followed  one  another  out  of 
the  door. 

Stilling  made  likewise  some  interesting  ac- 
quaintances in  Bremen,  and  renewed  a  couple 
of  ancient  friendly  alliances;  namely,  with  Doc- 
tor and  Professor  Meister,  whom  he  had  al- 
ready known  in  Elberfeld,  and  with  Ewald,  who 
was  now  preacher  there.  The  celebrated  Doc- 
tor Olbers  became  Stilling's  friend;  and  at  his 
house  he  also  became  acquainted  with  that  great 
astronomer,  alderman  Schröder.  He  also  con- 
cluded a  fraternal  alliance  with  Wienholt;— he 
and  his  consort  belong  to  the  class  of  the  best 
of  mankind. 

Bremen  possesses  very  many  pious  and  chris- 


STILLING'S  YEARS   OF  TUITION. 


147 


tian  inhabitants;  and  the  character  of  the  peo- 
ple, generally  speaking,  is  more  polished  and 
moral  than  in  other  large  commercial  cities. 
This  is  particularly  to  he  ascribed  to  the  excel- 
lent preachers  which  the  city  has  always  enjoy- 
ed, and  still  possesses. 

After  a  very  pleasing  abode  of  three  weeks 
and  a  few  days,  Siilling  and  Eliza  set  off  again 
from  Bremen  on  the  21st  of  October.  The  Lord 
had  blessed  his  hand;  and  the  wealthy  patients 
had  also  made  him  such  rich  presents,  that  not 
only  the  expensive  journey  was  paid  for,  but 
something  also  remained,  which  was  a  timely 
supply  for  the  great  and  oppressive  expenses  of 
his  household. 

The  Bremen  relatives  accompanied  their  trav- 
elling friends  to  the  Asseler  Damm,  where  they 
took  a  weeping  leave,  and  returned.  The  road 
to  Hoya  was  terrible;  however,  they  arrived 
safely,  though  late  in  the  evening,  at  the  above- 
mentioned  place.  In  Hanover  they  again  call- 
ed upon  their  friend  Falk,  who  received  them 
with  true  christian  brotherly  love.  They  then 
continued  their  journey,  and  arrived  in  due  time, 
well  and  happy,  at  Marburg,  where  they  also 
met  the  whole  family  in  health  and  comfort. 

The  journey  to  Bremen  had  procured  Stilling 
several  additional  friends  and  acquaintances ; 
but  had,  at  the  same  time,  considerably  increas- 
ed his  correspondence,  and  with  it  his  labors. 
Consultations  on  diseases  of  the  eye  and  letters 
of  a  religious  nature  came  every  post-day  in 
abundance;  to  this  was  added  also,  the  daily 
concourse  of  ophthalmic  patients  of  every  kind, 
so  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  accomplish 
all  that  was  required.  However,  Stilling  neg- 
lected nothing  relating  to  his  office,  but  exerted 
his  utmost  powers  to  fulfil  all  these  duties. 

Under  such  circumstances,  he  commenced  the 
year  1799.  On  the  22nd  of  February,  Eliza  was 
safely  delivered  of  her  youngest  child,  a  girl ; 
the  Countess  Waldeck  wished  to  stand  sponsor 
for  it,  which  was  naturally  accepted  with  many 
thanks.  The  little  girl  was  named  Christina 
from  her;  she  is  still  living,  and  with  the  rest  of 
the  children,  is  a  source  of  joy  to  her  parents. 

After  Lavater's  visit  to  Marburg,  Stilling  had 
entered  into  a  much  closer  connection  with  him. 
In  certain  points,  they  had  both  been  of  different 
sentiments;  this,  therefore,  caused  an  animated 
correspondence,  by  which  however  the  most  cor- 
dial brotherly  love  was  not  disturbed.  Both  liv- 
ed and  labored  for  the  Lord  and  his  kingdom  : 
fheir  great  object  was  likewise  their  bond  of  love. 
At  that  time  also,  the  celebrated  physician  Dr. 
Hotze,  was  in  Frankfort,  with  his  excellent  son- 
in-law,  Doctor  de  Neufville.  Stilling  had  been 
already  acquainted  with  Hotze  for  some  years, 
and  had  concluded  a  fraternal  alliance  with  him 
for  eternity.  Passavant  was  also  in  Frankfort ; 
both  were  Lavater's  and  Stilling's  fraternal 
friends,  and  closely  united  with  each  other.  La- 
vater  therefore  sent  his  letters  to  Stilling  open 
to  these  two  friends,  Hotze  and  Passavant,  and 
the  latter  sent  likewise  his  replies  unsealed  to 
them,  which  gave  rise  to  a  very  pleasing  and  in- 
structive correspondence.  The  subjects  which 
were  discussed,  were  the  most  important  articles 
of  faith  :  such  as  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement, 
answers  to  praver,  wonder-working  faith,  &c. 
In  this  veir,  1799,  this  correspondence  termina- 
ted ;  for  Lava'er  was  taken  prisoner  and  sent  to 
Bäsle,  and  Hotze  no  longer  resided  in  Frank- 
fort. 

I  take  notice  of  all  this,  for  the  sake  of  a  re- 


markable circumstance  which  occurred  to  Still- 
ing on  Saturday  the  13th  of  July. 

Beforj  his  journey  to  Bremen,  a  friend  had 
communicated  to  him,  in  confidence,  that  a  cer- 
tain celebrated  and  very  worthy  man  had  fallen 
into  extremely  necessitous  circumstances.  Still- 
ing related  this  in  Bremen  to  a  few  friends ; 
Doctor  Wienholt  undertook  a  collection  for  him, 
and  sent  Stilling,  in  the  winter,  about  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  guilders,  in  old  louis-d'ors:  but  on 
Stilling's  inquiring  more  minutely  in  what  man- 
ner the  money  could  be  safely  sent  to  the  hands 
of  the  worthy  man,  he  learnt  that  his  necessities 
were  not  now  so  urgent,  and  that  this  mode  of 
help  would  be  very  painful  to  him.  This  in- 
duced Stilling  to  retain  the  money,  and  to  in- 
quire in  Bremen,  whether  it  might  be  applied  to 
the  English  Missionary  Society,  or  else  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Underwald  in  Switzerland,  who 
had  lately  suffered  so  severely.  The  latter  was 
assented  to  ;  and  Stilling  consequently  entered 
into  correspondence  upon  the  subject  with  the 
pious  and  celebrated  Antistes  Hess  of  Zurich; 
he,  as  well  as  many  other  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Zurich,  having  seriously  undertaken  the  cause 
of  these  unfortunate  people. 

Stilling  wrote  on  this  business  to  Hess,  on 
the  13th  of  July  above-mentioned,  during  which 
something  singular  occurred  to  him.  In  the 
midst  of  writing,  just  as  he  was  reflecting  upon 
the  state  in  which  Switzerland  then  was,  he  felt 
in  his  mind,  all  at  once,  a  deep  impression,  with 
the  conviction  that  Lavater  would  die  a  bloody 
death — that  of  a  martyr.  These  last  words,  "  a, 
martyr's  death"  was  the  expression  which  he  pe- 
culiarly felt.  Something  was  also  connected 
with  it,  which  cannot  yet  be  disclosed.  It  is  natu- 
ral that  Stilling  was  much  astonished  at  it;  and 
during  this  astonishment  he  felt  also  convinced 
that  he  ought  to  mention  the  matter  in  this  letter 
to  Hess;  he  did  so,  and  requested  him,  at  the 
same  time,  to  take  an  opportunity  of  telling  it 
to  Lavater.  Hess  soon  replied,  testifying  his 
astonishment,  and  promising  to  disclose  it  to 
Lavater,  but  that  he  should  have  to  wait  for  a 
suitable  opportunity.  As  far  as  I  remember,  it 
was  really  mentioned  to  Lavater. 

My  estimable  friend  Hess  will  very  well  re- 
member all  this.  Stilling  had  this  presentiment 
on  the  13th  of  July;  and  ten  weeks  and  some 
days  afterwards,  namely,  on  the  26th  of  Septem- 
ber, Lavater  received  the  mortal  wound,  the  re- 
sult of  which  was  a  continual  martyrdom  for 
fifteen  months,  which  terminated  in  his  death. 

The  pious  and  truth-loving  reader  is  kindly- 
requested  not  to  estimate  such  phenomena  and 
incidents  higher  than  they  deserve ;  and  rather 
to  pass  no  judgment  upon  them.  A  time  wili 
come  when  this  presentiment  will  be  again  for- 
cibly called  to  mind. 

In  the  autumnal  vacation  Stilling  took  his 
wife  and  children  to  the  village  of  Münster,  near 
Butzbach  in  the  Wetterau,  to  which  place 
Schwarz  had  been  removed  from  Echzell.  Still- 
ing then  travelled  to  Frakfort  and  Hanau,  where 
ophthalmic  patients  again  awaited  him ;  bui 
Eliza  continued  at  Münster. 

Among  the  remarkable  individuals  with  whom 
Stilling  formed  a  personal  or  a  more  intimate 
acquaintance  on  this  journey  was  the  reigning; 
Landgrave  of  Homburg.  He  had  already  be- 
come acquainted  with  this  real  Christian  at 
Prince  Frederick's  in  Marburg,  and  now  waited 
upon  him  a  few  times  at  Frankfort.  Next,  the 
reigning  prince,  Wolfgang  Ernest  of  Isenburg- 


148 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


Birstein,  and  his  excellent  consort,  both  also 
true  Christians  ;  the  reigning  Count  of  Isenburg- 
Büdingen,  Ernest  Cassimir,  his  consort,  and  her 
sister,  Countess  Caroline  of  Bentheim  Steinfurth, 
all  three  truly  evangelical-minded  and  very 
worthy  individuals.  With  the  Countess  Caro- 
line, Stilling  already  carried  on  an  edifying  cor- 
respondence ;  her  sister  Polyzene,  a  very  devout 
woman,  lived  in  Siegen  ;  with  her  also  Stilling 
had  long  carried  on  a  religious  correspondence  ; 
but  she  had  entered  into  her  rest  some  time  be- 
fore this  period. 

If  in  this  history  I  frequently  make  mention 
of  persons  of  high  rank  who  held  Stilling  worthy 
of  their  confidence,  I  beg  that  this  may  not  be 
looked  upon  as  done  with  an  intent  to  boast  of 
it.  1  have  no  other  object  in  view  than  to  shew 
the  world  that  in  the  higher  classes  true  Chris- 
tianity has  its  adherents  as  well  as  in  the  lower. 
I  hold  it  my  duty  to  say  this  very  emphatically 
and  frequently;  for  within  the  last  twenty  or 
thirty  years  it  is  become  the  order  of  the  day  to 
degrade  both  rulers  and  nobility  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. Certainly,  in  the  present  day,  it  is  no 
very  special  recommendation  to  pronounce  any 
one  a  true  Christian,  in  the  ancient  evangelical 
sense  of  the  term ;  but  it  is  still  less  a  recom- 
mendation to  describe  a  person  as  not  a  Chris- 
tian, or  even  an  anti-Christian.  The  spirit  of 
our  times  is  very  inconsistent. 

Stilling  found  also  in  Büdingen  three  valuable 
individuals,  the  Inspector  Keller,  the  govern- 
ment-advocate Hedebrand,  and  the  young  court- 
chaplain  Meister,  a  son  of  his  Bremen  friend, 
from  whom  he  heard  a  masterly  and  genuine 
christian  discourse. 

After  a  very  pleasant  residence  of  three  days 
in  Büdingen,  Stilling  set  out  for  Butzbach,  with 
a  young  Mr.  Von  Grafenmeyer,  who  intended 
proceeding  to  the  university  of  Göttingen.  The 
road  led  through  a  fenny  and  watery  country, 
which  was  reported,  at  that  time,  to  be  unsafe. 
Much  was  related  of  a  tinman,  or  coppersmith, 
who  was  said  to  be  the  captain  of  a  band  of  rob- 
bers, and  to  be  at  home  in  those  parts.  This, 
therefore,  furnished  abundant  matter  for  con- 
versation between  the  coachman  and  the  ser- 
vant on  the  box.  Midnight  assaults,  tales  of 
robbery,  murder,  and  executions,  of  various 
kinds,  were  related  very  seriously  and  solemn- 
ly, and  prob;.bly  also  embellished  a  little  with 
inventive  fire.  This  continued  until  they  reach- 
ed the  Florstadt  forest. 

All  at  once  the  coachman  looked  at  the  ser- 
vant very  significantly,  and  said,  "  There  he  is, 
to  a  certainty !"  Stilling  looked  out  of  the  coach, 
and  saw  a  strong-made,  tall,  and  grave-looking 
man,  in  a  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons,  and 
large  lappets,  a  three-cornered  hat  on  one  ear, 
and  a  knotty  stick  in  his  hand,  walking  for- 
ward towards  the  wood;  the  coachman  turned 
about,  and  timidly  and  significantly  whispered 
into  the  coach,  "There  he  is!" 

"Who?" 

"Why,  the  Tinman,  to  be  sure!" 

"  So !" 

This  was  certainly  not  pleasant;  but  Stilling 
is  not  apprehensive  in  such  cases.  On  entering 
lue  wood,  he  alighted  on  account  of  the  bad 
roads,  and  went  before  on  foot,  for  he  feared  the 
roads  more  than  all  the  world  of  tinmen  and 
coppersmiths.  The  forest  was  full  of  wood- 
men, nor  did  a  single  robber  suffer  himself  to  be 
seen  or  heard.. 

On  arriving  in  the  evening  at  Butzbach,  Still- ' 


ing  found  his  good  and  faithful  son-in-law 
Schwarz;  both  passed  the  night  with  the  head- 
forester  Beck,  whose  father-in-law  Stilling  freed 
the  next  morning  from  the  cataract;  they  then 
went  together  to  Münster,  where  they  met  with 
Eliza  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  found  them 
well,  according  to  circumstances. 

After  a  quiet  and  refreshing  residence  of  six 
days,  Stilling  with  his  family  commenced  their 
journey  homewards.  Schwarz  accompanied 
them  to  Butzbach,  on  Monday,  the  14th  of  Oc- 
tober. Here  a  little  delay  took  place;  they 
breakfasted  with  the  foresters,  and  Schwarz 
went  out  to  provide  something.  All  at  once  he 
came  running  back,  just  as  Stilling  was  getting 
into  the  coach,  and  exclaimed,  "Dear  father, 
Lavater  has  been  shot  at,  and  severely  wound- 
ed!"  This  news  penetrated  like  lightning  and 
a  thunderbolt  through  Stilling's  whole  being;  he 
uttered  a  loud  cry,  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks.  But  with  all  his  pain  and  sympathy, 
he  still  felt  a  profound  serenity  and  submission 
to  the  will  of  God  ;  and  the  remarkable  circum- 
stance of  his  presentiment  having  been  fulfilled, 
gave  him  an  uncommonly  strong  confidence  that 
the  Lord  had  salutary  objects  in  view  in  it. 
They  now  proceeded  on  their  journey,  and  ar- 
rived in  the  evening  at  Marburg  in  safety. 

The  last  year  of  the  eighteenth  century  re- 
volved, with  respect  to  Stilling,  loftily  and  heav- 
ily in  its  sphere,  although  nothing  particularly 
remarkable  occurred  to  him  in  it.  During  the 
Easter  vacation,  he  had  again  to  travel  to  Frank- 
fort, Offenbach,  and  Hanau.  Eliza  could  not 
accompany  him  this  time.  Stilling  operated 
upon  several  blind  people  in  all  three  places. 
At  Hanau  he  resided  three  out  of  four  days  with 
the  government-councillor  Riess,  a  brother  of 
his  Marburg  friend.  He  and  his  lady  are  among 
Stilling  and  Eliza's  most  intimate  friends. 

He  formed  at  this  time  a  new  acquaintance  at 
the  Frankfort  fair, — the  celebrated  merchant 
Wirsching  of  Niirenburg.  This  old  and  vener- 
able man  had  traveled,  as  it  were,  for  pleasure, 
with  his  children  to  the  fair,  and  he  was  much 
delighted  to  find  Stilling  there,  whose  biography 
and  other  writings  he  had  read  with  satisfaction 
and  benefit.  Wirsching  had  been  once  a  poor 
orphan-boy,  whose  parents  had  left  him  nothing. 
By  diligence,  blameless  piety,  confidence  in  God, 
and  by  his  eminent  mercantile  abilities,  and  his 
long  journeys,  he  had  acquired  a  large  proper- 
ty; and  with  praise  and  thankfulness  towards 
his  heavenly  Guide,  he  showed  his  friend  Still- 
ing the  two  large  magazines  which  were  now 
his  property,  filled  with  Nürenburg  ware.  Wirs- 
ching, by  his  humility,  modesty,  and  thorough 
knowledge  of  religion,  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  Stilling,  and  they  formed  a  fraternal  alli- 
ance with  each  other.  After  completing  his 
affairs,  Stilling  set  off  again  for  Marburg. 

Lavater  was  not  immediately  mortally  wound- 
ed by  the  shot  he  had  received;  but  still  in  such 
a  manner  that  the  wound  in  time  necessarily 
became  mortal.  His  sufferings  affected  all  his 
friends  most  deeply;  tender  sympathy  impelled 
them  to  mutual  prayer  for  their  friend,  and 
brought  them  nearer  together.  Stillins:  corre- 
sponded on  his  account,  and  respecting  him,  with 
Passavant  in  Frankfort,  the  reformed  preacher 
Achelis  in  Göttingen,  and  also  with  a  certain 
lady  called  Julia.  This  pious  and  Christian 
female,  who  had  been  exercised  by  many  painful 
sufferings,  had  been  deeply  and  inwardly  affect- 
ed and  edified  in  particular  by  Lavater's  wri- 


STILLIN  G'S   YEARS   OF  TLITION. 


149 


tings.  This  induced  her  to  enter  into  corre- 
spondence with  Lavater;  but  as  she  had  well- 
grounded  reasons  for  remaining  concealed,  she 
never  discovered  herself  to  him.  He  conse- 
quently corresponded  long  with  a  certain  Julia 
in  the  North  of  Germany,  without  even  having 
the  least  knowledge  who  she  was.  He  sent  her 
many  tokens  of  remembrance  and  friendship,  as 
his  manner  was;  but  all  this  took  place  through 
Passavant,  who  was  acquainted  with  her  secret 
and  knew  her.  It  was  during  Lavater's  painful 
sufferings  that  Stilling  first  heard  any  thing  of 
Julia ;  he  wrote,  therefore,  to  Passavant,  to  re- 
veal to  him,  if  possible,  who  this  Julia  was,  and 
after  some  time  the  disclosure  was  made. 

Julia  is  the  daughter  of  the  late  worthy  and 
upright  Burgomaster  Eicke,  of  Hanoverian  Min- 
den. She  was  married  to  the  well-known  and 
pious  divine  Richerz,  who  was  first  university 
preacher  in  Güttingen,  and  at  length  superin- 
tendent at  GifFhorn  in  Hanover.  He  became 
celebrated  by  several  good  theological  works, 
and  died  also  as  a  true  Christian,  alter  a  tedious 
illness  in  consumption.  J'ulia  had  likewise  been 
always  very  weakly  and  sickly  ;  she  suffered 
extremely  in  her  own  body,  and  was  obliged 
also  to  attend  her  sick  husband  :  so  that  had  not 
her  cheerful  spirit,  and  her  calm  resignation  to 
the  will  of  God,  and  in  general,  her  religious 
sentiments,  supported  her,  she  would  have  been 
unable  to  bear  all  that  affliction  laid  upon  her. 
She  had  no  children,  and  lived  as  a  widow  in 
Minden,  her  native  town  ;  her  father  being  now 
very  old  and  infirm,  she  regarded  it  as  her  duty 
to  wait  upon  and  nurse  him,  and  consequently 
lived  in  the  same  house  with  him. 

From  this  time  Stilling  corresponded  very 
frequently  with  Julia;  and  the  subject  of  their 
letters  was  Lavater's  sufferings,  and  then  the 
only  thing  needful,  which  ought  to  be  the  chief 
object  of  every  Christian. 

O,  if  all  might  be  told  that  the  Lord  does  to 
his  people,  even  the  infidel  would  be  astonished, 
and  yet  not  believe ! 

Lavater  maintained  a  lively  correspondence 
with  Stilling,  even  on  his  sick-bed.  They  no 
longerdiscussed  controversially,  but  unanimous- 
ly and  fraternally,  the  most  important  religious 
truths.  A  fortnight  before  his  death,  he  wrote 
for  the  last  time  to  his  friend  in  Marburg;  and 
on  the  2d  of  January,  1801,  two  days  after  the 
commencement  of  the  nineteenth  century,  this 
great  and  remarkable  man  expired ;  he  died  as  a 
great  witness  for  the  truth  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Shortly  afterwards,  Stilling  composed  the  well- 
known  poem  entitled  "Lavater's  Glorification," 
which  was  first  printed  separately,  and  after- 
wards inserted  at  the  end  of  the  first  volume  of 
the  third  edition  of  the  "Scenes  in  the  Invisible 
World."  Some  critics  would  not  allow  that 
Stilling  was  correct  in  terming  Lavater  a  wit- 
ness for  the  truth  unto  blood,  and  others  main- 
tained that  his  gun-shot  wound  was  not  the 
cause  of  his  death;  but  the  thing  speaks  for 
itself. 

Lavater's  sanctified  heart  perfectly  forgave 
his  murderer;  he  even  said  he  would  subsequently 
seek  him  out,  whether  in  heaven  or  in  hell,  and  thank 
him  for  the  wound  which  had  been  such  an  instruct- 
ive school  to  him;  and  he  gave  orders,  very  ear- 
nestly, that  no  inquiry  should  be  set  on  foot  re- 
garding the  unfortunate  man,  but  that  he  should 
be  left  to  the  Divine  mercy.  His  bereaved  fam- 
ily obey  him  punctually  in  this ;  but  I  may  be 
allowed  to  state  what  follows,  in  confirmation 
of  my  assertion. 


The  soldier  who  mortally  wounded  Lavater, 
was  a  Swiss,  from  the  French  part  of  the  can- 
ton of  Bern  (Pays  de  Vaud).  He  and  one  of 
his  comrades  made  a  disturbance  at  a  house 
adjoining  Lavater's  parsonage.  Lavater  heard 
them  ask  for  something  to  drink  ;  he  according- 
ly took  a  bottle  of  wine  and  some  bread,  in  or- 
der to  carry  it  to  the  two  soldiers.  The  grena- 
dier, who  afterwards  shot  him,  was  particularly 
friendly  towards  him  ;  he  thanked  him  for  what 
they  had  consumed,  and  called  him  a  dear  fei- 
/<n//(Bruder  Herz),  for  he  spoke  German  as  well 
as  his  native  French  tongue.  Lavater  then  went 
into  his  house  again  ;  but  the  grenadier  contin- 
ued speaking  with  some  Zurich  people,  who 
stood  near.  Soon  after,  Lavater  came  again,  in 
order  to  request  this  friendly  soldier  to  protect 
him  from  another;  but  the  man  was  now  in  a 
rage  at  him,  and  shot  him. 

In  what  way  can  this  horrible  change  in  the 
mind  of  this  unhappy  young  man  be  accounted 
for,  except  in  the  following  manner'?  He  was 
a  well-educated  man,  and  was  acquainted  with 
Lavater's  writings;  for  every  Swiss,  who  was 
able  to  read,  had  read  them.  He  was  at  the 
same  time  of  revoluiionary  principles,  as  were 
very  many  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud  people  ;  conse- 
quently, not  only  of  entirely  opposite  sentiments, 
but  also  outrageously  incensed  against  him  on 
account  of  his  energy  in  reference  to  religion 
and  his  country  ;  for  not  long  before,  his  letters 
to  the  French  Director  Reubel,  and  to  the  Di- 
rectory itself,  had  appeared  in  print,  and  been 
much  read.  When  Lavater  brought  him  the 
bread  and  wine,  he  did  not  know  who  he  was; 
but  after  he  was  gone  away,  he  spoke  with  the 
bystanders,  and  learned  that  this  friendly  and 
benevolent  man  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lavater.  On 
this  he  fell  into  a  rage,  which  was  increased  by 
his  having  drunk  a  little  too  much  ;  just  at  this 
time,  the  good  man  unfortunately  came  to  him, 
and  was  shot.  Every  thing  is  thus  easily  com- 
prehended and  explained.  In  this  persuasion,  I 
assert  that  Lavater  is  a  witness  for  the  truth 
unto  blood ;  for  he  was  mortally  wounded  on  ac- 
count of  his  religious  and  political  sentiments 
and  testimony. 

Lavater's  death  was  like  the  signal  to  the  great 
and  glorious  development  of  Sailing's  fate,  which 
still  continued  hidden  in  the  impenetrable  ob- 
scurity of  the  future.  In  order  to  place  the  whole 
affair  most  clearly  in  the  light  of  truth,  I  must 
circumstantially  detail  his  whole  situation  ;  the 
Christian  reader  will  find  that  it  is  worth  the 
while. 

The  members  of  Stilling's  household,  whom 
he  had  to  provide  for,  were  the  following  indi- 
viduals: 

1.  Father  Wilhelm  Stilling;  who  was  now 
in  such  a  state  that  a  young  girl  like  Maria 
could  no  longer  wait  upon  him,  but 

2.  An  old  woman  was  taken  into  service,  who 
tended  him,  and  kept  him  and  his  bed  clean. 
Stilling's  eldest  step-sister,  Maria's  mother,  a 
truly  worthy  woman,  came  also  occasionally  to 
assist;  but  having  to  keep  house  herself,  was 
soon  obliged  to  return  to  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren. 

3.  Stilling  himself;  and  4,  his  Eliza. 

5.  Maria  Coing ;  she  had  been  residing  with 
her  brother,  who  the  previous  autumn  had  been 
appointed  minister  at  Braach,  near  Rotenburg 
in  Lower  Hessia,  for  the  purpose  of  superin- 
tending his  household  ;  but  as  she  was  weakly 
and  unaccustomed  to  a  country  life,  she  return- 
ed the  autumn  following. 


150 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


6.  Amalia  Coing.  Jacob's  betrothed;  these 
two  sisters  were  Eliza's  faithful  helpmates  in 
the  housekeeping.  The  children  of  the  Coings 
had  entrusted  their  property  to  their  brother-in- 
law,  for  which  they  boarded  and  lodged  with  him. 

7.  Jacob  himself.  After  long  waiting,  he  had 
at  length  become  government-advocate  and  at- 
torney3 in  Marburg;  a  profession,  however, 
•which  brought  in  little  to  a  man  of  his  charac- 
ter. Though  he  lodged  out  of  his  father's  house, 
yet  he  ale  at  his  table. 

8.  Caroline,  who  was  now  growing  up,  and 
whom  it  was  necessary  to  have  instructed  in  ev- 
ery thing  that  becomes  a  well-educated  female. 

9.  10,  and  11.  The  three  little  children,  Fred- 
erick, Amalia,  and  Christina. 

12.  Maria,  who  served  faithfully,  sometimes 
as  child's  maid,  sometimes  as  kitchen-servant, 
sometimes  as  housemaid,  and  who  could  not  be 
dispensed  with. 

13.  An  elderly  widow  of  the  name  of  Bobbin  ; 
her  husband  had  died  early,  and  left  her  with 
three  little  boys;  she  had  subsisted  for  a  long 
time  upon  daily  labour,  until  Eliza  took  her  into 
service.  Her  real  childlike  simplicity,  incor- 
ruptible integrity,  pure  deportment,  and  undis- 
sembled  piety,  made  her  of  such  value  that  she 
was  sent  for  on  every  occasion  when  help  was 
necessary.  Her  three  sons  had  now  each  learnt 
a  trade,  and  were  abroad;  she  herself  obtained 
a  place  in  the  St.  James's  Alms-houses  at  Mar- 
burg, so  that  she  is  now  provided  for;  but  she 
was  the  greater  part  of  the  time  in  Sailing's 
house,  where  there  was  always  enough  for  her 
to  do.  She  could  not  be  employed  to  wait  upon 
Father  Wilhelm,  because  she  had  an  excessive 
repugnance  to  any  thing  of  the  kind.  Lastly, 
there  was  also 

14.  A  regular  servant-woman,  who  is  natural- 
ly indispensable  in  such  a  household. 

Every  rational  reader,  who  knows  the  arrange- 
ment of  a  household  in  town,  where  every  thing 
is  purchased  for  ready-money,  and  where  pro- 
priety of  station  must  be  observed,  and  reflects 
also  how  Stilling  was  circumstanced  with  re- 
spect to  the  poor  blind  people,  will  easily  com- 
prehend that  at  such  dear  times  he  could  not  pay 
off  any  of  his  debts;  the  interest,  however,  was 
regularly  paid,  and  no  new  debts  contracted. 

With  this  domestic  situation,  let  the  reader 
also  consider  Stilling's  accumulated  occupations 
in  his  sphere  of  action  : 

1.  A  constant  conflux  of  applications,  both  by 
letter  and  in  person,  from  ophthalmic  patients 
of  every  kind,  from  far  and  near;  so  that  this 
vocation  alone  was  sufficient  to  employ  a  man, 
but  which,  with  the  exception  of  the  journeys, 
brought  in  next  to  nothing  in  his  practice  at 
home.  But  the  journeys  he  undertook  only  when 
he  was  sent  for,  and  during  the  holidays. 

2.  An  immense  religious  correspondence,  the 
importance  and  utility  of  which,  in  a  variety  of 
ways,  can  only  be  judged  of  by  him  who  has 
seen  the  letters;  and  then  the  entreaties,  from  all 
sides,  to  write  religious  works,  and  labor  alone 
for  the  Lord  and  his  kingdom;  from  which 
again  he  derived  nothing,  since  the  sale  of  the 
copyrights  by  no  means  sufficed  to  pay  the  nu- 
merous postages.  Stilling  had  therefore  two  ex- 
tremely important  species  of  vocation,  both  which 
were  extensively  and  beneficially  useful,  and  to 
which,  particularly  to  the  religious  sphere  of  ac- 
tion, he  now  felt  himself  fully  called  and  des- 
tined. But  having  at  the  same  time  such  a  nu- 
merous and  expensive  household,  and  then  these 


two  vocations  from  whence  pay  was  not  to  be 
thought  of  nor  expected,  how  could  these  be  made 
to  harmonize'?  and  besides  all  this,  a  burden- 
some debt  of  from  sixteen  to  seventeen  hundred 
guilders ;  how  was  this  amount  to  be  liquidated  1 
Add  to  these, 

3.  Stilling's  professorship,  which,  from  rea- 
sons already  mentioned,  became  more  and  more 
unproductive,  and  his  lecture-room  more  and 
more  empty.  Neither  his  acknowledged  ani- 
mated delivery,  nor  his  perspicuity,  which  had 
been  formerly  so  much  admired,  nor  his  fluent 
eloquence,  any  longer  availed.  In  short,  the 
study  of  finance  began  to  go  out  of  fashion  in 
Marburg,  and  the  number  of  students,  from  well- 
known  causes,  decreased  in  every  faculty  ;  and 
it  was  this  unproductive,  ever-retrograding  vo- 
cation, for  which  Stilling  was  kept  in  pay,  and 
without  which  he  could  not  possibly  live. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  there  was  also  the  pain- 
ful, conscientious  feeling,  iliat  a  man  of  integri- 
ty, even  if  not  a  true  Christian,  must  resign  his  of- 
fice awl  salary  into  the  hands  of  his  prince,  as  soon 
as  he  is  unable  to  administer  it  consistently  with 
duty ;  and  though  this  may  not  be  his  fault,  yet  he  is 
still  bound  to  do  so.  This  requirement,  which  no 
sophist  can  demonstrate  out  of  Stilling's  con- 
science, rendered  him  anxious  and  apprehen- 
sive, and  yet  he  could  not  yield  obedience  to  it; 
he  was  bound,  as  it  were,  both  hand  and  foot. 

I  now  ask  every  sensible  reader,  what  possi- 
ble means  of  escape  or  deliverance  could  be 
thought  of?  In  the  present  state  of  his  house- 
hold he  required  above  two  thousand  guilders  an- 
nually, without  being  able  to  pay  off  any  of  his 
debts. 

This  sum  must  either  be  given  him  by  the 
Elector  of  Hesse,  along  with  his  dismission  from 
his  professorship,  or — a  foreign  prince  must  give 
Stilling  an  appointment  as  oculist  and  religious 
author,  with  a  salary  of  two  thousand  guilders. 

These  were  the  only  methods  to  be  thought 
of,  for  his  deliverance  from  this  situation. 

He  that  is  only  in  some  measure  acquainted 
with  the  Hessian  constitution  knows  that  the 
first-mentioned  plan  was  morally  impossible ; 
besides  which,  an  event  occurred  in  the  winter 
of  1803  which  made  it  likewise  morally  impossi- 
ble on  the  part  of  Stilling;  as  I  will  subsequent- 
ly relate  in  its  proper  place. 

To  hold  forth  the  possibility,  or  at  least  the 
^practicability  of  the  second  way  of  deliverance 
as  the  object  of  his  hope,  would  have  been  en- 
thusiastic vanity ;  and  even  if  this  object  were 
attained,  Stilling  could  not  remove  from  Mar- 
burg; for  father  Wilhelm  was  in  such  circum- 
stances that  he  could  not  be  removed  even  a  sin- 
gle league ;  and  to  leave  him  behind,  amongst 
strangers,  did  not  lie  in  Stilling's  and  Eliza's 
sphere  of  possibility.  Besides  which,  Jacob  was 
also  not  yet  provided  for;  and  to  support  him 
from  a  distance,  take  his  Amalia  with  them  and 
separate  her  from  him,  was  considered  on  all 
sides  too  hard.  In  a  word,  in  this  case  there 
were  also  insuperable  difficulties. 

Such  were  Stilling's  circumstances.  His 
manifold  occupations  and  his  oppressive  situa- 
tion rendered  his  life  painful  to  him;  to  which 
was  also  joined  his  wonted  inward  melancholy, 
so  that  he  needed  every  possible  experience  de- 
rivable from  suffering  and  a  continual  walk  in 
the  presence  of  God,  with  uninterrupted  watch- 
ing and  prayer,  in  order  not  to  sink  under  the 
burden.  Under  such  circumstances,  travelling 
was  beneficial  to  him,  and  another  journey  now 
occurred. 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


151 


The  "  Nostalgia,"  and  the  "  History  of  the 
Triumph,"  had  procured  him  a  great  number 
of  friends  and  correspondents  of  all  ranks,  learn- 
ed and  unlearned,  male  and  female,  of  every 
province  in  Germany,  but  especially  in  Wiir- 
temberg,  and  still  more  so  in  Switzerland.  In 
St.  Gall,  Schaffhausen,  Winterthur,  Ziirich, 
Bern,  Bäsle,  and  up  and  down  the  country,  there 
"were  many  friends  of  Stilling  and  readers  of  his 
works.  Besides  this,  young  Kirchhofer,  an  ex- 
cellent youth,  the  only  son  of  the  worthy  co-rec- 
tor Kirchhofer  of  ScharThausen,  had  studied  di- 
vinity about  the  year  1795  in  Marburg,  and  was 
treated  in  Stilling's  house  as  if  he  had  been  at 
home.  He  was  now  preacher  at  Schlatt,  in  his 
native  canton.  Through  this  connection  an  in- 
timate bond  of  friendship  had  been  formed  be- 
tween the  families  of  the  Kirchhofers  and  the 
Stillings;  the  four  religiously  disposed  and  ac- 
complished sisters  of  young  Kirchhofer,  who 
possess  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  the 
Lord's  true  worshippers  through  the  whole  of 
Switzerland,  and  correspond  diligently  with 
them,  now  commenced  a  correspondence  with 
Stilling,  and  procured  him  a  still  greater  and 
very  interesting  circle  of  acquaintances.  All 
this  prepared  the  way  for  the  journey  which  was 
by  far  the  most  important  and  considerable  in 
Stilling's  life  hitherto. 

In  March  of  the  year  1801,  he  received,  very 
unexpectedly,  a  letter  from  his  dear  friend  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Sulzer  of  Winterthur,  who  was  a  neph- 
ew of  the  celebrated  and  learned  Sulzer  of  Ber- 
lin, in  which  he  was  asked  whether  he  could 
come  that  spring  to  Winterthur,  to  perform  the 
operation  on  a  very  venerable  matron  who  was 
blind  of  the  cataract;  for  she  wished,  with  the 
Divine  assistance,  to  receive  her  sight  again 
from  Stilling,,  whom  she  esteemed  and  loved ; 
for  the  expenses  of  the  journey  and  the  time  it 
would  occupy,  he  would  be  duly  remunerated. 
This  proposition  filled  Stilling's"  soul  with  joy; 
and  the  children,  particularly  Jacob,  foreboded  a 
happy  result  from  the  journey.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  this,  Stilling  thought  that  prudence  was 
necessary  in  undertaking  so  great  and  expensive 
a  journey.  He  therefore  wrote  again  to  Sulzer, 
stating  that  he  would  willingly  come,  but  that 
Eliza  must  accompany  him,  and  as  the  diligence 
travelled  during  the  night  she  could  not  avail 
herself  of  it,  on  account  of  weakness,  but  must 
travel  post,  and  this  would  be  rather  expensive. 
Sulzer  only  briefly  answered,  that  every  thing 
would  be  adjusted,  and  they  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  come. 

Stilling  now  applied  to  the  Elector  for  permis- 
sion; and  he  and  his  Eliza  made  preparations 
for  this  extremely  interesting  and  desirable  jour- 
ney. And  in  order  to  be  the  more  at  ease,  it 
-was  agreed  that  Jacob,  Arnalia,  Caroline,  and 
the  three  little  ones,  should  be  taken  to  brother 
Coing  and  sister  Maria  at  Braach,  pass  some 
time  there,  then  leave  little  Amalia  and  Freder- 
ick with  them,  and  return  with  the' elder  Ama- 
lia, Caroline,  and  Christina,  who  was  now  two 
years  old,  by  way  of  Bergheim,  to  visit  the 
Countess  of  Waldeck,  who  had  removed  from 
Marburg.  During  the  time  of  their  absence, 
the  good  Maria  and  the  rest  of  the  household 
■were  to  nurse  the  old  grandfather,  and  attend  to 
the  housekeeping.  This  plan  was  carried  into 
execution  minutely. 

Stilling  and  Eliza  commenced  their  first  Swiss 
journey  on  the  27th  of  M^rr-h,  1801,  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning.    At  Butzbach  they  met  their 


children  and  grandchildren  Schwarz,  who  wish- 
ed them  a  happy  journey;  and  in  the  evening 
they  were  received  with  joy  by  the  amiable  lam- 
ily  of  the  Hausknechts  at  Frankfort.  The  next 
day  they  purchased  a  variety  of  necessaries  lbr 
the  journey;  Stilling  bought,  in  particular,  a 
light  travelling-carriage,  which  he  required  for 
such  a  long  journey  ;  and  on  the  29th  of  March, 
took  post-horses  to  Heidelberg. 

I  must  not  forget  to  observe  that  Stilling,  on 
the  first  day  of  his  journey,  was  attacked  by  tor- 
menting spasms  in  the  stomach  in  all  their  vio- 
lence ;  lbr  some  time  previous,  they  had  entire- 
ly left  him.  This  embittered,  it  is  true,  all  the 
pleasure ;  but  he  afterwards  found  how  good  it 
was  that  the  Lord  had  given  him  to  taste  this 
bitter  on  the  way;  for  without  it  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  in  danger  of  soaring  too  high, 
and  of  suffering  a  dreadful  fall,  by  reason  of  all 
the  commendations  and  marks  of  respect  he  re- 
ceived. 

Our  travellers  pleased  themselves  much  with 
the  expectation  of  reaching  Heidelberg,  partly 
in  the  hope  of  seeing  their  friends  the  Miegs,  but 
still  more  so  Lisette,  who  was  now  fifteen  years 
old,  and  whom  they  had  not  seen  since  1791, 
consequently  for  ten  years.  This  young  girl 
had  won  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  her,  by  her 
distinguished  and  very  peculiarly  amiable  dis- 
position. Every  one  that  came  from  Heidel- 
berg, and  had  been  at  Mieg's  house,  could  not 
say  enough  in  praise  of  Lisette  ;  her  whole 
character  was  piety,  and  a  tranquil  and  peaceful 
cheerfulness ;  her  whole  being,  apart  from  all 
noisy  recreations,  lived  only  in  a  higher  sphere, 
and  her  praying  soul  adhered  with  her  whole 
heart  to  her  Redeemer.  To  press  such  a  daugh- 
ter once  more  to  the  parental  breast,  was  pure 
and  sublime  delight. 

Lisette  had  also  expected  her  parents  so  ar- 
dently, that  it  was  necessary,  in  the  evening,  to 
refresh  her  with  a  little  wine,  as  it  was  some- 
what late  before  they  arrived.  At  half-past  eight 
they  stopped  at  Mieg's  door;  the  welcome  was 
indescribable.  They  spent  the  Monday  at  Heid- 
elberg, and  rode  on  Tuesday  to  Ueilbronn ;  on 
Wednesday  they  continued  their  journey,  and 
arrived  towards  noon  at  Ludwigsburg.  At  the 
Orphan-house  there,  they  met  with  Stuttgard 
friends,  who  were  come  to  meet  them  ;  namely, 
the  minister  Von  Seckendorf,  with  whom  Still- 
ing had  stood  in  a  religious  and  friendly  connec- 
tion for  many  years;  Doctor  Reus,  the  physi- 
cian to  the  court,  and  Walther,  councillor  of 
state,  if  I  mistake  not,  from  Gaildorf ;  a  French 
army-surgeon  named  Oberlin,  a  son  of  that  dear 
man  of  God,  Oberlin  of  Steinthal  in  Alsace,  and 
perhaps  some  others,  whom  1  no  longer  recollect. 
Stilling  rejoiced  particularly  to  see  his  old  friend 
again,  Israel  Hartmann,  the  orphan  schoolmas- 
ter, of  whom  Lavater  said,  "  If  Christ  were  now 
living  amongst  us,  he  would  choose  him  for  an 
apostle."  The  whole  company  dined  together 
at  the  Orphan-house,  and  every  one  felt  happy ; 
there  is  something  great  in  a  company  of  purely 
good  men.  Eliza  sat  next  to  the  worthy  old 
Hartmann ;  she  was  never  weary  with  looking 
at  him,  and  listening  to  him;  especially  as  she 
found  a  resemblance  between  him  and  her  late 
father  Coing.  An  intimate  bond  of  friendship, 
for  time  and  eternity,  was  formed  between  Doc- 
tor Reus,  his  lady,  Stilling,  and  Eliza.  In  the 
afternoon,  they  all  rode  to  Stuttgard,  where 
Stilling  and  Eliza  took  up  their  residence  in  the 
house  of  Mr.  Von  Seckendorf. 


152  HEINRICH 

Stilling  formed  here  also  numerous  and  re- 
markable personal  acquaintance  with  pious  and 
learned  natives  of  Wurtemburg,  amongst  whom 
his  heart  adhered  particularly  to  Storr  Rieger 
the  court-chaplain,  Dann,  and  others.  He  found 
here  also  unexpectedly  his  friend  Matthison,  who 
was  residing  with  his  former  inmate,  the  wor- 
thy aulic  counsellor  Hartmann. 

The  next  day,  being  Holy  Thursday,  they 
rode  to  Tubingen;  on  Good  Friday  to  Tuttlin- 
gen ;  and  the  Saturday  before  Easter  to  Schaff- 
hausen,  where  they  were  received  with  loud  ex- 
pressions of  joy  by  the  family  of  the  Kirchhof- 
ers. 

On  the  way  from  Tuttlingen  to  Schaff  hausen, 
in  riding  over  the  hill,  there  is  a  place  from 
which  a  prospect  presents  itself,  which  to  a  Ger- 
man who  has  never  been  in  Switzerland,  and 
has  a  feeling  for  any  thing  of  the  kind,  is  aston- 
ishing. From  Tuttlingen,  the  road  leads  gradu- 
ally up  an  ascent,  and  over  it  to  the  summit, 
from  whence  the  following  view  is  seen :  on  the 
left,  towards  the  south-east,  about  the  distance 
of  a  league,  stands  the  Riesenfels  (Giant- Rock), 
with  its  ruined  fortress,  Hohen-Twiel ;  and  to- 
wards the  south-west,  on  the  right,  at  about  the 
same  distance,  its  brother,  an  equally  strong  and 
lofty  giant,  with  its  likewise  ruined  fortress, 
Hohenstaufen,  bids  us  defiance.  Between  these 
two  side-posts,  the  following  prospect  shows  it- 
self: to  the  left,  along  the  Hohentwiel,  about 
three  German  miles  broad,  the  Bodensee  glitters 
far  and  wide,  like  liquid  silver;  on  the  south 
side  of  it,  we  overlook  the  paradisiacal  Thurgau, 
and  beyond  it,  the  Graubundtner  Alps.  More 
to  the  right,  the  canton  Appenzell  will)  its  snow- 
clad  mountains,  the  canton  Glarus  with  its  giant 
hills,  and  particularly  the  Glarnitsch  soaring 
high  above  the  rest;  the  lofty  Sentis  and  the 
seven-toothed  Kuhfirsten,  lie  more  eastward. 
Thus  the  prospect  extends  over  the  whole  range 
of  the  snowy  mountains,  as  far  as  into  the  can- 
ton of  Bern,  and  a  great  part  of  Switzerland. 
This  was  an  exhilarating  feast  for  Stilling's 
eyes.  When  one  looks  at  the  whole  Alpine 
range,  as  it  lies  along  the  horizon,  it  appears 
like  a  great  saw,  with  which  planets  might  be 
cut  asunder. 

Stilling  continued  at  Schaff  hausen  till  Easter 
Tuesday.  He  performed  several  successful 
ophthalmic  operations;  amongst  which  one  was 
particularly  remarkable,  on  a  youth  of  fifteen 
years  of  age,  who  was  born  blind,  a  son  of  the 
pious  Professor  Altorfer,  and  who  underwent 
the  operation  on  Easter  Monday  morning,  in  the 
presence  of  many  persons.  When  the  first  ray 
of  light  beamed  into  his  right  eye,  on  being 
freed  from  the  cataract,  he  rose  up  and  exclaim- 
ed, "  I  see  the  majesty  of  God  !"  This  expres- 
sion affected  all  present,  even  to  tears;  theoper- 
tion  was  then  performed  on  the  other  eye.  A 
slight  inflammation  afterwards  hindered  the  at- 
tainment of  perfect  vision;  however,  he  has  a 
partial  power  of  sight,  and  Stilling  hopes,  by  a 
second  operation,  to  restore  to  him  the  perfect 
use  of  his  eyes. 

I  must  also  mention  another  pretty  thought  of 
the  good  youth's.  His  parents  had  caused  a 
gold  ring  to  be  made,  in  which  a  beautiful  lock 
of  hair  lrom  every  member  of  the  family  was  in- 
closed, and  heavily  embossed  with  golden  fruits. 
Eliza  had  this  ring  presented  to  her  after  the 
operation  ;  and  the  dear  patient  had  had  the 
idea  of  having  the  following  device  engraved 
upon  it,  "  Written  in  faith,  presented  in  sight;" 
but  the  space  was  not  sufficient. 


STILLING. 

The  same  day,  in  the  afternoon,  Stilling  and 
Eliza,  accompanied  by  the  Kirchhofer  family, 
went  to  the  Rhinefall  on  foot ;  but  his  spasmodic 
attacks  were  so  violent  that  he  was  often  obliged 
to  remain  behind,  and  had  not  the  expected  en- 
joyment of  this  sublime  spectacle  of  nature. 
Stilling  and  Eliza  went  along  the  wooden  balus- 
trade, so  near  the  waterfall  that  they  could  have 
washed  in  it.  This  striking  natural  phenomenon 
is  utterly  indescribable  ;  it  must  be  seen  and 
heard  in  order  to  form  a  correct  idea  of  it.  The 
continual  thunder,  the  trembling  of  the  ground 
on  which  one  stands,  and  the  immense  mass  of 
water,  which  hurls  itself  with  irresistible  force 
about  eighty  feet  down  the  rocks,  foaming  with 
milky  whiteness,  and  precipitating  itself  roaring 
into  the  wide  and  boiling  gulf  below,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  a  couple  of  hundred  feet — all  this  together 
presents  a  spectacle  in  which  proud  man  be- 
comes a  worm  in  the  dust.  Generally  speaking, 
the  scenery  of  Switzerland  is  of  such  a  charac- 
ter that  it  shows  its  proud  sister  Art  its  superi- 
ority, and  humbles  her  under  its  mighty  hand. 

The  day  following,  that  is,  on  Easter  Tues- 
day, in  the  afternoon,  our  travellers  rode  to 
Winterthur.  Half-way,  at  the  romantic  town 
of  Andolfingen-under-Thur,  they  found  their 
venerable  friend  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sulzer,  with  a  few 
of  the  family  of  the  matron  who  had  sent  for 
Stilling.  They  had  come  to  meet  them,  and  re- 
ceived them  most  tenderly  and  cordially.  They 
then  proceeded  ön  their  journey  to  Winterthur, 
where  they  arrived  in  the  twilight  of  evening. 

The  patient  who  had  sent  for  Stilling  was  the 
widow  Frey,  who  resided  at  the  sign  of  the 
Harp.  She  had  two  sons  with  her  in  the  house, 
who  were  married,  and  with  whose  assistance 
she  carries  on  a  considerable  business.  Stilling 
and  his  Eliza  were  received  and  treated — if  I 
dare  so  express  myself— as  angels  of  God. 

Dear  reader,  pardon  me  for  here  giving  vent 
to  a  very  just  effusion  of  my  heart,  which  I  find 
it  impossible  to  restrain. 

I  cannot  possibly  express  in  words  what  Still- 
ing and  Eliza  enjoyed  in  the  family  of  the  Freys 
— that  outer-court  of  heaven!  They  will  both 
one  day  thank  every  dearly-beloved  member  of 
that  family  before  the  heavenly  hosts,  and  pro- 
claim aloud  the  benefits  they  have  received  from, 
them,  which  tongue  and  pen  are  too  feeble  to  ex- 
press; and  the  Lord  will  reward  them,  both  here 
and  hereafter.  Eliza  formed  a  permanent  and 
intimate  sisterly  alliance  with  the  daughters-in- 
law  of  Madame  Frey. 

Stilling  performed  the  operation  on  the  worthy 
lady,  the  next  day,  with  perfect  success.  An  in- 
flammation afterwards  took  place  in  the  right 
eye ;  but  with  the  left  she  is  able,  thank  God !  to 
see  very  well. 

Stilling  was  completely  occupied  with  busi- 
ness during  his  residence  at  Winterthur.  He 
daily  performed  several  operations,  and  hun- 
dreds of  sufferers  came  to  consult  him;  and  to 
this  was  joined  intolerably  tormenting  spasmodic 
attacks,  by  which  every  enjoyment  was  griev- 
ously embittered.  However,  on  Friday  the  10th 
of  April,  he  received  a  visit  which  for  a  short 
time  counterbalanced  the  spasms.  Lavater's 
pious  brother,  Senator  Diethelm  Lavater,  a  very 
able  physician;  the  devoutly  cheerful  Gessner, 
Lavater's  son-in-law;  and  Louisa,  the  unwea- 
ried nurse  and  attendant  of  her  glorified  father; 
and  then  another  noble  sufferer,  a  widow  Fuess- 
li,  of  Zurich,  who  now  already  mingles  with  the 
harpers  on  the  glassy  sea  in 'their  hallelujahs — 


STILLING'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


153 


these  four  dear  people  entered  Sailing's  apart- 
ment. Thus  will  it  on  ■  day  be,  when  we  have 
overcome,  and  reach  the  plains  of  light  in  the 
kingdom  of  God.  The  blessed  spirits  of  former 
times,  oar  dear  predecessors,  and  all  the  emi- 
nent saints  whom  we  have  so  much  wished  to 
know  here  below,  will  hasten  to  our  embrace ; 
and  then  to  see  tlie  Lord  Himse/f— with  his  radi- 
ant wounds! — the  pen  falls  from  my  hands. 

These  dear  friends  stayed  to  dine,  and  then 
travelled  back  again  to  Zurich. 

On  Monday  the  13th  of  April,  Stilling  set  out 
for  Zurich,  accompanied  by  Sulzer,  the  young 
Kirchhofer  of  Schaff  hausen,  and  the  above- 
mentioned  Madame  Fuessli,  to  visit  the  friends 
there,  as  also  to  inspect  a  cataract  patient,  who 
awa  ted  him;  this  was  the  celebrated  manufac- 
turer and  merchant  Esslinger,  whose  pious  and 
benevolent  sentiments  are  universally  known, 
and  who  is  alreaJy  receiving  their  reward  in  the 
kingdom  of  light  above.  Esslinger  resolved 
upon  the  operation  with  the  following  words: 
"  I  had  committed  the  matter  to  the  Lord,  and 
expected  help  from  him;  He  now  sends  it  into 
my  house,  I  will  therefore  receive  it  thankfully." 

Stilling  now  saw  likewise  the  venerable  widow 
of  his  glorified  brother  Lavater — a  woman  who 
was  worthy  of  such  a  man  —  the  image  of  the 
most  exalted  Christian  virtues.  Truly  Lavater's 
widow  and  children  belong  to  the  best  class  of 
mankind !  In  the  evening,  Stilling,  accompanied 
by  Suker,  travelled  back  to  Winterthur. 

Stillin?  there  received  a  letter  from  the  magis- 
trates of  Schaffhausen,  in  which  they  thanked 
him  very  kindly  and  obligingly  for  the  benefits 
he  hid  bestowed  upon  some  unfortunate  people 
in  their  town.  But  on  the  day  of  his  departure 
for  Zurich,  another  peculiar  honor  was  done 
him.  Whilst  at  dinner  at  Madame  Frey's, 
Doctor  Steiner,  an  excellent  young  man,  who 
was  a  member  of  the  magistracy,  came  and 
presented  Stil linsr  with  an  address  in  the  name 
of  the  town  of  Winterthur,  accompanied  by  a 
very  handsome  massive  silver  medal,  in  a  neat 
cover  which  a  lady  of  Winterthur  had  embroi- 
dered. On  the  outside  of  this  cover  stand  the 
words : 

"  The  gift  divine  bestow'd  on  thee, 
To  cause  the  darken'd  eye  to  see, 
Restoring  heaven's  reviving  light, 
Where  all  was  dull  and  cheerless  night — 
Impels  full  many  a  heart  to  praise 
The  God  of  mercy  and  of  grace." 

On  one  side  of  the  medal,  the  following  in- 
scription is  cut,  in  the  lapidary  style: 

"Presented  to  the  Christian  philanthropist, 
Heinrich  Stilling,  Aulic  Counsellor  and  Profes- 
sor at  Marburg,  by  the  elders  of  the  church  at 
Winterthur,  as  a  trifling  memorial  of  his  benef- 
icent residence  in  that  town  in  April  of  the  year 
1801,  and  as  a  testimony  of  the  respect  and 
grateful  love  of  its  inhabitants." 

On  the  other  side  stands,  engraved  in  the 
same  manner : 

"  Unweariedly  active  in  affording  consolation 
to  suffering:  humanity,  he  sows  excellent  seed 
for  the  great  day  of  recompense." 

My  readers  may  easily  think  with  what  emo- 
tion and  deep  humiliation  before  God  he  receiv- 
ed this  honorable  testimonial,  and  how  he  replied 
to  it. 

On  this  solemn  day,  Thursday  the  16th  of 
April,  Stilling  and  Eliza  took  their  departure 
from  Winterthur  for  Zurich,  amidst  the  regrets 
of  all  their  friends.    They  there  took  up  their  I 


abode  with  Gessner,  who,  with  his  excellent 
spouse— a  daughter  of  Lavater,  who  was  with 
him  in  Copenhagen — received  them  with  the 
arms  of  friendship. 

The  first  work  which  Stilling  performed  in 
Zurich,  was  an  operation  on  Esslinger.  It  suc- 
ceeded very  well  ;  he  received  his  sight,  but 
soon  after  gutta  serena  ensued,  and  he  continued 
incurably  blind  till  his  death. 

This  family  also  Stilling  can  only  sufficiently 
thank  in  eternity;  it  is  impossible  here. 

In  Zurich  he  was  oppressed  and  tormented 
outwardly  by  an  indescribable  concourse  of 
ophthalmic  patients,  and  inwardly  by  the  most 
painful  spasmodic  attacks.  Occasionally,  his 
patience  forsook  him,  so  that  he  treated  the  peo- 
ple harshly,  and  complained  of  the  multitude 
that  came  to  him.  Several  Zurich  people  took 
this  so  much  amiss,  that  he  afterwards  found  it 
advisable  to  circulate  a  written  document  in  that 
town,  in  which  he  begged  pardon  of  all  and 
every  one  whom  he  had  offended.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  mention  here  by  name  the  numerous  re- 
markable and  excellent  individuals  of  both  sex- 
es, with  whom  Stilling  became  personally  ac- 
quainted in  Switzerland  generally,  and  particu- 
larly in  Zurich,  and  who  deemed  him  worthy  of 
their  friendship.  Hess,  the  Doctors  Hirzel,  fa- 
ther and  son,  professor  Meyer,  the  celebrated  en- 
graver and  painter  Lips,  who  took  Sailing's 
likeness,  and  engraved  it,  and  several  other  re- 
spectable individuals,  distinguished  themselves, 
next  to  Lavater's  family,  relatives  and  friends, 
by  marks  of  friendship. 

On  Tuesday  the  2dth  of  April,  Stilling  and 
his  Eliza,  after  taking  a  very  affecting  leave, 
set  off  from  Zurich.  Doctor  Steiner  of  Winter- 
thur, who  presented  him  the  medal,  and  his 
young  friend  the  Rev.  Mr.  Kirchhofer  of  Schlatt, 
accompanied  them. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  magistrates 
of  Zurich  also  thanked  Stilling  in  an  official  let- 
ter. 

They  pursued  their  journey  from  Zurich  by 
way  of  Baden  and  Lenzburg  to  Zofipgen,  in  the 
canton  of  Bern,  where  Stilling  was  to  perforin 
the  operation  on  Bailiff  Senn  ;  (at  the  word  bail- 
iff, the  reader  must  not  imagine  to  himself  a 
German  village  bailiff.)  It  was  on  this  account 
that  Doctor  Steiner  accompanied  them,  for  he 
was  a  relative  of  Senn  ;  and  as  Stilling  could 
not  prolong  his  stay,  Steiner  intended  to  remain 
in  Zcfingen  a  few  days,  to  perfect  the  cure. 
Senn  is  a  venerable  man  ;  and  placid,  modest, 
christian  virtue  is  the  chief  trait  in  his  and  his 
family's  character. 

On  Wednesday  morning  the  22nd  of  April, 
Stilling  performed  the  operation  on  Bailiff  Senn, 
and  also  on  a  poor  girl ;  and  then  travelled  with 
his  Eliza  down  the  beautiful  valley,  along  the 
Aar,  through  Aarburgh  and  Olten,  and  up  the 
Hauenstein.  This  hill  would  be  looked  upon 
in  Germany  as  a  lofty  mountain,  but  here  it  is 
considered  of  no  account.  On  the  top,  the  road 
is  hewn  through  a  rock;  and  when  past  the  sum- 
mit, there  is  a  prospect  of  Germany ;  in  the 
north-west,  the  Vogesen  mountains  are  indis- 
tinctly seen,  and  in  the  north  the  beginning  of 
the  Black  Forest  is  perceptible ;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  whole  Alpine  chain  appears  in  the 
southern  horizon. 

After  they  had  ridden  for  some  distance  on 
this  side,  they  reached  a  solitary  inn,  out  of  which 
a  well-dressed  pretty  woman  came  running,  who 
inquired,  in  a  very  friendly  manner,  whether 


154  HEINRICH 

Stilling  was  in  the  carriage.  On  hearing  the  an- 
swer in  the  affirmative,  her  whole  heart  and  eyes 
overflowed  with  expressions  of  love  and  friend- 
ship. She  brought  them  out  a  breakfast;  her 
husband  and  children  also  joined  them,  and  a 
quarter  of  an  houi's  very  cordial  and  christian 
conversation  ensued;  the  travellers  then  took 
their  leave,  and  proceeded  further  down  the  val- 
ley. The  place  is  called  Leufelfingen  ;  and  the 
landlord's  name  is  Fluhebacher.  Stilling  has 
since  carried  on  an  edifying  correspondence  with 
Madame  Fluhebacher. 

At  six  in  the  morning  the  travellers  arrived  at 
Bäsle,  where  they  were  received  in  the  most 
friendly  manner  by  Senator  Daniel  Schorndorff, 
his  consort,  and  children.  In  this  dear  and  re- 
ligiously-disposed family  they  spent  several  hap- 
py days. 

There  was  here  also  much  to  do.  Stilling 
again  formed  important  acquaintances;  partic- 
ularly with  the  divines,  &c,  of  the  "German 
Society  for  the  promotion  of  true  Godliness," 
as  also  with  the  pious  preachers,  Huber,  La 
Roche,  &c. 

After  a  four  days'  residence,  Stilling  took  an 
affecting  leave  of  his  friends  here  also,  and  set 
out  from  Bäsle  with  his  Eliza  on  Monday  the 
27th  of  April,  early  in  the  morning. 

Now,  my  dear  readers,  he  that  hath  ears  to 
hear,  let  him  hear ;  and  he  that  has  a  heart  to  feel, 
let  him  feel ! 

Stilling  was  indebted  to  the  amount  of  one 
thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty  guilders;  amongst 
the  seventy-two  individuals,  blind  of  the  cataract, 
wlwm  he  couched  in  Switzerland,  there  was  one, 
who  knew  not  a  word  of  his  debts — or  at  least,  could 
not  remotely  suppose  the  amount  of  them — and  sim- 
ply from  an  inward  impulse  to  place  Stilling  in 
more  easy  circumstances  for  the  future,  paid  him 
exactly  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty  guilders 
for  couching  the  cataract,  and  the  consequent  cure. 
"When  Stilling  and  Eliza  went  up  to  their  bed- 
chamber in  the  evening,  they  found  the  money, 
partly  in  cash,  and  the  remainder  in  bills,  upon 
their  bed,  exactly  the  amount  of  their  debts,  of 
which  this  instrument  in  the  hand  of  God  knew 
not  a  word ! 

What  were  the  feelings  of  the  good  couple ! 
With  an  unparalleled  emotion  they  both  sank 
down  at  the  bed-side  upon  their  knees,  and  ren- 
dered ardent  thanks  to  Him  who  had  so  very 
visibly  given  this  unspeakably  important  testi- 
mony of  his  most  special  providence  and  gui- 
dance. 

Eliza  said,  "  This  may  properly  be  called 
1  giving  to  his  beloved  sleeping  f  from  this  time 
I  will  never  distrust  Him  again." 

Still  more !  the  worthy  individual  who  a  few 
years  before  sent  the  three  hundred  guilders, 
when  Stilling  was  at  Cassel,  and  Eliza  in  needy 
circumstances,  was  also  visited,  in  order  to 
return  her  due  thanks.  Her  husband  under- 
went the  operation  ;  and  when  Stilling  protested 
against  any  further  payment,  the  worthy  man 
said,  very  pathetically,  "That  is  my  business!" 
and  then  sent  six  hundred  guilders  to  Stilling  at 
his  lodgings ;  with  this,  the  expenses  of  the 
journey  were  likewise  paid. 

Still  more  !  Selling's  heavenly  Guide  knew 
that  in  a  few  years  he  would  require  a  hand- 
some sum  ;  but  Stilling  had  no  presentiment  of 
such  a  necessity.  This  was  provided  for  by  the 
sums  paid  him  by  several  wealthy  patients,  with 
many  thanks.  Besides  this,  so  many  presents 
and  memorials  of  affection  in  jewellery  were  add- 


STILLING. 

ed.  that  Stilling  and  Eliza  returned  from  Switz- 
erland like  two  bees  from  a  journey  amongst  the 
flowers. 

Dear  readers,  God  the  Omniscient  knows  that 
all  this  is  pure  and  unembellished  truth.  But  if 
this  is  pure  and  sacred  truth,  what  results  from 
it  1  At  the  close  of  this  volume  we  shall  dis- 
cover. 

Our  travellers  now  took  their  way  through 
the  Breisgau  down  to  Carlsruhe.  From  Bäsle 
to  this  place,  or  rather  to  Rastadt,  Stilling  was 
martyred  by  a  dreadful  feeling  of  anxiety.  It 
seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  going  to  meet  cer- 
tain death.  The  occasion  of  this  was  a  warning, 
which  was  secretly  and  seriously  given  him  at 
Bäsle,  on  no  account  to  return  through  Stras- 
burg, from  which  place  also  this  warning  ema- 
nated, a  friend  having  written  to  Bäsle  expressly 
respecting  it. 

Besides  this,  there  was  another  circumstance ; 
a  certain  dangerous  man  threatened  Stilling, 
when  at  Bäsle,  whose  enmity  was  excited  only 
by  his  writings,  which  contain  much  that  is  in- 
tolerable to  a  revolutionary  freethinker.  I  know 
to  a  certainty,  that  there  are  people  who  gnash 
their  teeth  with  rage  if  only  Sti.ling's  name  is 
mentioned.  Strange  !  Stilling  gnashes  his  teeth 
at  no  one's  name.  Friends,  on  which  side  is  the 
truth  1  Verily,  verily,  not  on  the  side  of  those 
who  thus  act. 

With  all  this,  it  is  still  something  singular 
that  Stilling,  at  certain  times,  and  often  on  still 
inferior  occasions,  is  seized  with  such  an  in- 
describable terror;  while  in  other  and  far  great- 
er dangers  he  is  often  not  at  all  dismayed.  I  be- 
lieve that  it  proceeds  from  the  influence  of  some 
invisible  evil  being,  some  angel  of  Satan,  to 
which  God,  for  wise  reasons,  sometimes  gives 
permission.  Physical  predisposition  may  give 
occasion  to  such  a  fiery  trial,  but  the  whole  of 
the  temptation  is  founded  neither  in  the  body 
nor  the  soul ;  but  this  can  be  proved  by  nothing 
but  individual  experience.  The  Holy  Scrip- 
tures testify  that  there  are  such  siftings  of  Sa- 
tan. 

Stilling's  anxiety  was  at  its  height  at  Freiburg, 
in  the  Breisgau,  at  Offenburg,  and  at  Appenwe- 
yer. At  Rastadt  it  became  tolerable;  but  his 
spasmodic  attacks  then  began  to  rage  violently. 
On  Monday  the  29th  of  April,  they  set  off  in  the 
morning  with  a  drowsy  postillion  and  two  wea- 
ried horses,  for  Carlsruhe;  on  the  way,  the 
spasms  in  the  stomach  were  almost  intolerable, 
and  Stilling  longed  for  repose.  At  first,  he  was 
unwilling  to  visit  the  Elector,  but  wished  rather 
to  rest  himself;  however,  he  still  thought  that 
as  that  great,  wise,  and  pious  prince  had  read 
the  "  Nostalgia"  with  so  much  approbation,  and 
had  written  to  him  a  few  times  in  consequence 
of  it,  it  was  his  duty  at  least  to  make  the  attempt, 
and  ascertain  whether  he  would  be  admitted  to 
an  audience.  He  went  therefore  to  the  palace, 
announced  himself,  was  immediately  introduced, 
and  urged  to  return  in  the  evening  for  an  hour, 
at  five  o'clock.  I  say  not  a  word  more  respect- 
ing this  visit,  except  that  it  laid  the  remote  found- 
ation for  the  final  solution  of  Stilling's  destiny, 
without  his  having  any  presentiment  of  it  at  the 
time. 

On  Thursday  the  30th  of  April,  they  travelled 
from  Carlsruhe  to  Heidelberg.  Lisette  had  pray- 
ed during  the  whole  time  that  her  parents  might 
have  a  prosperous  journev.  The  next  morning, 
Friday  the  first  of  Mav,  thev  journeyed  further. 
Mieg  and  Lisette  accompanied  them  to  Heppen- 


STILLING'S  YEARS  OF  TUITION. 


155 


heim,  where,  before  the  door  of  the  inn,  they  saw 
their  Lisette  for  th-  last  time  in  this  lile.  Mieg 
went  back  with  her  to  Heidelberg,  and  Stilling 
anu  Eliza  continued  their  way  to  Frankfort, 
where  they  arrived  safe  and  well  the  following 
day. 

From  Frankfort,  they  made  an  excursion  to 
the  Schlangen  bad,  in  order  to  perform  the  opera- 
tion on  the  old  and  venerable  Burggrave  Rull- 
mann and  some  poor  people.  There,  in  pleas- 
ing solitude,  they  had  time  to  recapitulate  the 
whole  journey  ;  and  after  accomplishing  all  that 
was  desired,  they  proceeded  on  their  return  to 
Marburg,  where  they  arrived  on  the  15th  of 
May,  and  found  the  whole  family  in  good  health. 

The  first  thing  Stilling  now  undertook  was  the 
liquidation  of  his  debts.  The  greater  part  of  the 
principal  sum  which  had  been  advanced  him  at 
Schönenthal,  immediately  after  his  return  from 
Strasburg,  on  the  security  of  his  father-in-law, 
was  still  owing,  nor  was  the  security  removed ; 
but  now  it  was  done  at  once.  He  now  did  not 
owe  any  one  a  farthing,  to  the  best  of  his  recol- 
lection. He  had  formerly  removed  from  Heid- 
elberg in  order  that  he  might  liquidate  his  debts 
by  means  of  his  large  salary;  this  was  his  and 
Selma's  plan,  but  not  the  Lord's;  for  the  chief 
amount  was  not  paid  by  the  salary,  but  by  the 
funds  provided  by  Providence.  The  Lord's  in- 
tention in  removing  him  to  Marburg  was  no 
other  than  to  preserve  him  from  the  misery  and 
terrors  of  war,  by  bringing  him  to  a  place  of 
safety,  and  then  to  crown,  in  a  striking  manner, 
his  thirty  years'  unshaken  stedfastness  in  con- 
fiding in  His  aid.  even  in  the  darkest  times,  and 
in  a  country  which  had  been  the  most  exhausted 
by  war ;  so  that  every  one  must  confess  and  say, 
"'This  is  the  Lord's  doing." 

Should  any  object  to  my  saying  that  it  was 
the  Lord's  plan  to  preserve  Stilling  from  the  hor- 
rors of  war,  since  there  have  been  much  better 
men  who  have  been  obliged  to  endure  them,  the 
following  may  be  to  such  a  serviceable  reply: 
That  a  good  shepherd  marks  the  weakest  of  his  slieep ; 
and  such  as  can  endure  the  least  are  the  chief  and 
primary  objects  of  his  care,  that  he  may  protect  them 
from  the  storm  and  tempest. 

When  Providence  intends  to  accomplish  any 
thing,  it  does  not  do  it  by  halves,  but  entirely. 
Stilling  was  indebted,  when  he  studied  at  Stras- 
burg, between  forty  and  fifty  guilders,  to  a  friend 
there  ;  the  latter  did  not  urge  the  payment,  and 
Stilling  had  so  much  to  do  with  his'  other  bur- 
densome debts,  that  he  was  happy  when  a  cred- 
itor let  him  alone.  This  went  on  till  the  French 
revolution  when  every  thing  was  turned  up-side- 
down  in  Strasburg,  as  well  as  elsewhere.  The 
war  afterwards  broke  out,  by  which  the  commu- 
nication between  Germany  and  France  was  ren- 
dered extremely  difficult;  and  as  Stilling  had 
more  heavy  and  urgent  debts,  he  thought  no 
more  of  this  amount.  But  his  heavenly  Guide, 
who  is  thoroughly  and  perfectly  just,  by  no 
means  forgot  it;  for  immediately  after  Still ing's 
journey  to  Switzerland,  a  friend  came  to  the 
brother  of  the  Strasburg  creditor,  who  had  died 
long  before,  and  paid  him  not  only  the  small 
sum  owing,  but  also  the  interest  for  thirty  years, 
so  that  his  payment  amounted  to  nearly  a  hun- 
dred guilders.  Stilling  therefore  received  from 
an  unknown  hand  the  acknowledgment  for  this 
amount ;  but  he  has  never  learnt  who  the  friend 
was  that  so  nobly  performed  this  act  of  kindness. 
But  he  will  eventually  find  thee,  thou  noble- 
minded  individual,  where  everv  thing  is  made 


manifest,  and  he  will  then  be  able  to  thank  thee 
as  thou  deservest ! 

This  was  therefore,  indeed,  a  blessed,  debt- 
liquidating  journey!  A  mighty  difficulty  was 
now  gloriously  surmounted.  After  being  obliged 
to  incur  a  load  of  debt  to  the  amount  of  four  thou- 
sand five  hundred  guilders,  and  then  to  be  enabled 
to  pay  the  whole,  without  any  property,  merely  by 
faith,  uprightly  and  honestly,  with  the  interest,  to 
the  very  last  farthing,  did  not  fail  to  call  forth  his 
fervent  hallelujahs. 

A  few  weeks  after  Stilling's  return  from  Switz- 
erland, something  remarkable  occurred  to  him. 
He  was  sitting  one  forenoon  at  his  desk,  when 
some  one  knocked  at  his  door.  On  calling  out, 
"  Come  in  !"  a  young  man  of  from  twenty-seven 
to  thirty  years  of  age  entered  the  room.  He  ap- 
peared restless  and  uneasy,  looked  timidly  about 
him,  and  often  cast  a  shy  glance  at  Lavater's 
portrait.  "You  have  been  in  Zurich,"  said  he; 
"1  was  there  also;  I  must  be  gone;"  he  walk- 
ed about  in  a  state  of  agitation,  looked  at  Lava- 
ter's picture,  and  said  hastily,  "  I  cannot  remain 
in  Germany — I  am  every  where  unsafe;  1  might 
be  caught;  O  sir!  help  me  in  making  my  es- 
cape!" Stilling  felt  embarrassed,  and  asked 
him  if  he  were  a  Swiss"?  "O  yes,"  answered 
he,  "lama  Swiss;  but  I  have  no  rest— I  wish 
to  go  to  America  ;  assist  me  in  getting  thither  I" 
He  said  other  things  besides,  and  continued  rap- 
idly to  pace  the  room,  looking  at  Lavater's  pic- 
ture, which  excited  a  suspicion  in  Stilling's  mind 
that  he  was  Lavater's  murderer.  He  therefore 
advised  him  to  go  to  Hamburg,  where  he  would 
always  find  opportunity  to  go  to  America ;  but 
told  him  to  hasten,  lest  he  should  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  police.  The  poor  man  then  sud- 
denly ran  out  of  the  door,  and  disappeared. 

After  Stilling  had  thus  honestly  thrown  of! 
the  burden  of  his  debts,  which  he  had  so  long 
carried,  another  affair  was  undertaken.  On 
Stilling  and  Eliza's  return  from  Switzerland, 
they  had  passed  the  night  at  Munster,  with  their 
children  the  Schwarzes;  and  after  they  had  in- 
formed them  of  what  the  Lord  had  done  for 
them,  and  how  he  had  blessed  them,  Schwarz 
and  Hannah  proposed  that  the  parents  should 
now  crown  Jacob  and  Amalia's  long-tried  love, 
and  let  them  be  united,  since  in  reality,  circum- 
stances would  be  neither  changed  nor  rendered 
more  irksome  by  it.  The  parents  found  nothing 
to  object  to  this ;  and  in  order  to  surprise  the 
young  couple  and  cause  them  still  greater  joy, 
it  was  resolved  to  keep  all  the  preparations  se- 
cret, invite  friend  Schlarbaum  with  his  family 
to  tea,  and  that  the  latter  should  at  once  step 
forth  and  marry  them.  The  accomplishment  of 
this  plan  succeeded  only  in  part,  for  the  thing 
did  not  remain  entirely  secret ;  the  wedding  took 
place  on  the  12th  of  July  in  that  year— 1801. 
Jacob  now  removed  to  his  parents'  house  again  ; 
and  he  and  his  consort  continued  to  board  with 
them  on  the  same  economical  footing  as  before. 

The  previous  summer,  Eliza  had  used  the 
baths  at  Hofgeissmar,  but  her  neck  had  become 
rather  worse  than  better;  she  was  now  advised 
to  try  the  Schlangen  baths,  where  she  stayed  six 
weeks,  but  this  was  also  of  little  avail. 

This  summer  Stilling  wrote  the  second  vol- 
ume of  the  "  Scenes  in  the  Invisible  World." 
On  this  occasion,  I  must  mention  something 
pleasing  and  remarkable ;  every  one  is  at  liberty 
to  make  of  it  what  he  pleases.  I  have  already 
observed  that  Stilling,  the  winter  before,  soon 
after  Lavater's  death,  had  published  a  poem  un- 


156 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


der  the  title  of  "  Lavater's  Glorification."  In 
this  poem,  Felix  Hess  and  Pfenninger,  two  of 
Lavater's  friends,  who  died  before  him,  are  rep- 
resented as  coming  in  the  form  of  two  angels  to 
fetch  the  weary  warrior  after  his  death  and  con- 
duct him  to  the  New  Jerusalem.  About  half  a 
year  after  the  publication  of  this  poem,  Stilling's 
pious  and  faithful  friend  Breidenstein,  the  re- 
lormed  preacher  at  Marburg,  came  to  visit  him  ; 
both  conversed  upon  a  variety  of  subjects,  and 
amongst  other  things,  upon  the  poem.  "It  is 
surprising,"  said  Breidenstein,  "how  beautiful- 
ly you  have  made  use  of  the  late  Felix  Hess's 
promise."  "  How  so  1"  inquired  Stilling;  "what 
promise'?"  Breidenstein  replied,  "  Upwards  of 
twenty  years  ago,  Lavater  stood  by  the  side  of 
Felix  Hess's  dying-bed,  weeping,  and  said, 1  Now 
thou  wilt  not  stand  at  my  bed-side,  when  I  die  !' 
Hess  answered,  'But  I  will  come  and  fetch 
thee !' "  Stilling  rejoined,  "  Really,  I  never  heard 
a  word  of  it ;  it  is,  however,  something  strange ; 
where  is  it?  I  must  read  it  for  myself!"  "That 
you  shall,"  said  Breidenstein;  "it  is  indeed  very 
strange !"  The  next  day  he  sent  Lavater's  mis- 
cellaneous works,  in  which  there  is  a  short  biog- 
raphy.of  Felix  Hess;  and  this  conversation  is 
inserted,  just  as  Breidenstein  related  it. 

1  can  with  the  greatest  truth  assert  that  this 
circumstance  had  either  never  come  to  Stilling's 
knowledge,  or  at  least  that  he  had  not  thought 
of  it  for  many  years,  even  though  he  might  have 
read  it — which  latter,  however,  1  do  not  believe. 
Therefore,  if  this  singular  affair  be  chance,  it  is 
one  of  the  strangest  that  ever  occurred  ;  for  first, 
Hess  says  to  Lavater  immediately  before  his 
death,  nearly  thirty  years  since,  "  I  will  come 
and  fetch  thee,  when  thou  diest!"  Many  years 
after,  Lavater  dies;  Stilling  resolves  to  make  a 
poem  on  his  death;  decides  upon  forming  the 
plan  of  it,  so  that  two  of  his  friends  are  to  fetch 
him,  and  makes  choice  of  the  very  man  who 
had  promised  him  to  do  so  thirty  years  before. 

One  thing  more  :  when  Stilfing  was  in  Zu- 
rich, he  was  told  that  Lavater  had  had  a  friend 
with  whom  he  had  lived  on  a  still  more  confi- 
dential footing  than  with  Felix  Hess,  and  was 
asked  why  he  had  not  made  use  of  him  in  the 
poem,  for  the  purpose  of  fetching  Lavater  1 
Stilling  inquired  who  this  friend  was,  and  was 
told  it  was  Heinrich  Hess.  This  occasioned 
Stilling  to  introduce  this  friend  in  the  "Scenes 
in  the  Invisible  World,"  in  the  following  man- 
ner: the  glorified  Heinrich  Hess  is  represented 
as  bringing  Lavater  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  be- 
cause she  was  desirous  of  seeing  this  faithful 
follower  of  her  Son.  Mary  then  relates  to  La- 
vater the  Lord's  character,  as  exemplified  in  his 
earthly  life,  &c.  This  is  brought  forward  pre- 
cisely in  this  manner  in  the  second  volume  of 
the  Scenes.  Long  after  the  work  was  printed, 
Stilling  was  once  accidentally  reading  in  Lava- 
ter's "Jesus  Messias,"  the  26th  chapter  of  the 
first  volume,  which  relates  the  quiet  conceal- 
ment of  Jesus,  and  found  again,  to  his  astonish- 
ment, that  Lavater  consoles  himself  with  the 
hope  that  the  Virgin  Mary  would  eventually  re- 
late to  kim,  in  the  blissful  regions,  the  character  her 
Son  bore  in  his  earthly  life,  &c.  It  may  be  be- 
lieved, on  my  word,  that  Stilling  had  never  read 
this  before. 

Another  journey  was  also  undertaken  in  the 
autumn  of  the  year  1801.  In  a  place  in  the 
north  of  Germany  there  was  a  very  pious  per- 
son, who  had  the  cataract;  she  was  too  poor  to 
come  to  Marburg,  or  to  send  for  Stilling.  The 


latter  conferred  with  Eliza  on  the  subject;  and 
they  resolved  that  as  the  Lord  had  so  greatly 
blessed  their  Swiss  journey,  and  showed  them 
so  many  favors,  they  would,  from  gratitude,  un- 
dertake the  journey  to  their  worthy  patient  at 
their  own  expense,  and  with  the  Divine  assist- 
ance restore  her  to  sight;  they  therefore  prepa- 
red for  the  journey,  and  Stilling  wrote  to  the 
person  that  he  would  come.  The  latter  was  ex- 
tremely pleased,  as  may  easily  be  supposed,  and 
made  Stilling's  intention  known  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood; and  as  he  would  have  to  pass  through 
Brunswick,  he  was  kindly  invited  to  lodge  in 
the  house  of  Mr.  Stobwasser,  an  eminent  trades- 
man, who  has  a  considerable  manufactory  .of  ja- 
pan-ware, and  is  a  member  of  the  Moravian 
church.  Stilling  thankfully  accepted  the  offer; 
and  as  their  way  led  them  through  Minden,  they 
determined  to  pay  a  visit  to  Julia,  in  order  to 
become  acquainted  with  that  worthy  woman; 
and  on  her  inviting  them  to  stay  at  her  house, 
they  joyfully  assented. 

Stilling  and  Eliza  commenced  this  journey  on 
the  18th  of  September;  they  took  Carol. ne  with 
them  as  far  as  Cassel,  where  she  was  to  remain 
until  her  parents  returned;  for  as  by  her  good 
conduct  and  cordial  affection  to  her  parents  she 
caused  them  joy,  they  sought,  when  occasion  of- 
fered, to  return  it  to  her.  They  lodged  at  Cas- 
sel with  privy-counsellor  Von  Kunckcl,  whose 
lady  is  a  near  relative  of  Eliza.  Mr.  Von 
Kunckel  had  always  been  Stilling's  faithful, 
tried,  and  intimate  friend,  and  will  remain  so  as 
long  as  they  shall  both  continue  to  exist.  Von 
Kunckel  has  served  in  every  gradation,  and  by 
his  faithful  activity  is  become  what  he  is. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  they  rode  to 
Minden,  where  they  remained  till  after  the  Sun- 
day. Julia  received  them  with  all  the  fulness  of 
Christian  affection;  she  and  the  worthy  reform- 
ed minister,  Klugkist,  together  with  his  excel- 
lent lady,  manifested  all  possible  friendship  to 
our  two  travellers.  Julia  and  Eliza  formed  an 
indissoluble  sisterly  alliance  with  each  other, 
and  bound  themselves  to  walk  in  the  path  which 
our  adorable  Redeemer  has  himself  marked  out 
and  trodden.  Julia  has  also  two  excellent  sis- 
ters, who  were  likewise  there,  and  helped  to  in- 
crease the  religious  and  friendly  circle. 

At  Göttingen  they  found  the  faithful  Achelis 
just  on  the  point  of  departing;  he  had  received 
a  call  as  preacher  to  a  place  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Bremen ;  his  lady,  with  her  sister,  had  al- 
ready gone  before  to  Bovenden,  where  she  ex- 
pected him.  Achelis  now  accompanied  Stilling 
and  Eliza,  and  from  Bovenden  they  travelled 
together  to  Nordheim,  where  they  separated, 
amidst  the  expression  of  a  thousand  blessings. 

At  Nordheim,  Stilling  was  attacked  by  an  in- 
describable apprehension  ;  it  began  before  ta- 
king leave  of  Achelis ;  but  whether  the  good  man 
observed  it  or  not,  I  know  not.  It  was  in  reality 
an  apprehension  of  bad  roads,  and  of  the  over- 
turning of  the  coach,  but  it  was  so  horrible  that 
it  could  scarcely  be  endured;  it  lasted  during 
the  whole  journey,  and  was  sometimes  stronger 
and  at  others  weaker. 

On  Tuesday,  the  22nd  of  September,  in  the  af- 
ternoon, they  arrived  safely  at  Mr.  Stobwasser's 
house  in  Brunswick;  he  himself  with  his  con- 
sort was  at  Berlin,  where  he  has  also  a  consid- 
erable manufactory;  but  his  household  showed 
the  travellers  all  possible  affection  and  friend- 
ship, and  Stilling  and  Eliza  felt  truly  happv 
amongst  these  good  people. 


STIL  LING'S  YEA 


RS   OF  TUITION. 


157 


From  this  place  Stilling  rode  to  the  person  on 
whose  account  he  had  undertaken  the  journey  ; 
and  happily  she  received  her  sight.  In  Bruns- 
wick itself,  he  performed  the  operation  on  twelve 
individuals;  and  lour  leagues  1'rorn  thence,  at 
Ampleben,  the  manorial  residence  of  Mr.  Von 
Böiticher,  to  which  a  church-town  is  annexed, 
on  Madame  Von  Bode,  who,  with  her  husband, 
belongs  also  to  the  true  followers  of  the  Redeem- 
er. Stilling  and  Eliza  rode  thither,  and  remain- 
ed there  some  days;  Madame  Von  Bode  re- 
gained her  sight,  and  they  returned  to  Bruns- 
wick. 

Eliza  having  been  seriously  advised  to  con- 
sult the  celebrated  and  learned  physician  Bey- 
reis,  aulic  counsellor  at  Helmstadt,  on  account 
of  the  convulsive  affection  in  her  neck,  the  jour- 
ney thither  was  also  undertaken.  The  great 
man  took  all  conceivable  pains  to  afford  the 
travellers  pleasure;  he  also  wrote  directions  for 
the  use  of  Eliza,  which,  however,  she  was  una- 
ble to  follow,  because  they  affected  her  too  vio- 
lently. 

During  his  residence  in  Brunswick,  Stilling 
formed  several  interesting  personal  acquaintan- 
ces, with  Campe,  Von  Zimmerman,  Eschen- 
burg, Pökels,  and  others.  The  Duke  showed 
himself  extremely  gracious;  he  sent  twice  for 
Stilling,  and  conversed  with  him  a  long  time,  on 
a  variety  of  subjects,  and  amongst  others,  on  re- 
ligion, respecting  which  he  expressed  himself  in 
a  satisfactory  and  edifying  manner.  He  then 
also  said  to  Stilling,  "  All  that  you  have  done  here, 
I  look  upon  as  done  to  myself;"  and  the  following 
day  he  sent  sixty  louis-d'ors  to  his  lodgings. 
With  this  the  travelling  expenses  were  not  only 
paid,  but  something  even  remained  over,  it 
was  therefore  the  will  of  Providence  that  the 
Swiss  money  should  be  reserved  for  another 
very  different  object. 

Whilst  Stilling  continued  at  Brunswick,  the 
consort  of  the  hereditary  Count  of  Stollberg- 
Wernigerode,  born  Princess  of  Schönberg,  was 
safely  delivered  of  a  young  countess;  the  pa- 
rents had  chosen  Stilling  as  sponsor  for  the 
child;  and  this  still  more  confirmed  the  inten- 
tion, already  formed  in  Marburg,  of  making  a 
little  circuit  to  Wernigerode.  Accordingly,  they 
set  off  from  Brunswick  on  Friday  the  ninth  of 
October,  and  arrived  in  the  evening  at  the  place 
above  mentioned,  at  the  lofty  castle  which  has 
belonged  to  the  Count's  piously-disposed  family 
from  ancient  times. 

Stilling  and  Eliza  felt  here  as  in  the  precincts 
of  heaven.  He  also  visited  his  old  friends,  su- 
perintendent Schmid,  aulic  counsellor  Fritsche, 
advocate  Benzler,  Blum,  government-advocate, 
and  Secretary  Closse,  who  has  excellently  set  to 
music  his  song  in  the  "Nostalgia" — "A  wan- 
derer," &c. 

They  remained  Saturday,  Sunday,  and  Mon- 
day, with  the  noble  family»of  Wernigerode.  A 
gentleman  from  Saxony,  who  had  business  there, 
and  sat  next  to  Stilling  at  the  table,  said  to  him 
with  emotion,  "  Really  a  person  ought  from  time 
to  lime  to  travel  hither,  in  order  to  recreate  and 
revive  himself;"  and  certainly  he  was  in  the 
right;  religion,  decorum,  politeness,  cheerful- 
ness, dignity,  and  completely  unassuming  man- 
ners, distinguish  the  character  of  every  member 
of  this  noble  family. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  Stirling's  melan- 
choly di  1  not  leave  him  here;  it  could  scarcely 
be  endured. 

On  Tuesday,  the  13th  of  October,  the  travel- 


lers took  an  affecting  and  grateful  leave  of  the 
family  of  Wernigerode ;  the  count  sent  his  own 
coachman  with  two  horses  with  them  to  Leesen, 
from  whence  Stilling  travelled  post  to  Gander- 
sheim, where  the  Countess  Frederica  of  Orten- 
berg, who  has  been  many  years  his  friend,  is 
canoness;  she  had  requested  him  to  visit  her, 
because  there  were  ophthalmic  patients  there 
who  expected  him. 

The  Countess  Frederica  was  highly  rejoiced 
at  Stilling's  visit;  and,  generally  speaking,  much 
honor  was  shown  to  both  the  travellers  in  that 
place.  They  supped  in  the  evening  with  the 
Princess  of  Coburg,  who  took  the  place  of  the 
princess  her  mother  during  her  absence.  Still- 
ing was  of  service  to  several  patients  there,  and. 
performed  the  operation  on  a  poor  old  wom- 
an. The  evening  before  their  departure,  his 
melancholy  rose  to  a  tormenting  agony;  but  to- 
wards midnight,  he  applied  himself  very  seri- 
ously to  God  in  prayer,  so  that  it  could  not  fail 
to  be  heard,  and  then  slept  quietly  till  morning, 
when  he  continued  his  journey  home  with  his 
Eliza;  they  arrived  late  in  the  evening  at  Min- 
den, where  Julia,  Klugkist,  and  his  lady,  vied 
with  each  other  in  manifesting  their  friendship. 

It  was  now  obvious  that  Julia's  aged  father 
was  drawing  near  his  end ;  Stilling  and  Eliza  re- 
quested her.  therefore,  when  her  lather  had  en- 
tered into  his  rest,  to  visit  them  at  Marburg,  for 
it  would  serve  to  cheer  and  refresh  her;  which 
she  promised  to  do. 

Stilling  found  much  to  do  at  Cassel;  so  that 
he  was  obliged,  from  morning  till  evening,  to 
write  prescriptions  and  give  his  advice:  he  also 
operated  on  several  persons  for  the  cataract. 

My  readers  will  remember  that  brother  Coing 
had  been  appointed  preacher  at  Braach,  near 
Rothenburg  on  the  Fulda,  eleven  leagues  from. 
Cassel,  and  that  Maria  Coing,  with  the  two 
children,  Frederick  and  Amalia,  were  also  there. 
It  was  Stilling  and  Eliza's  intention  to  letch  these 
two  children  from  thence,  as  well  as  their  sister 
Maria,  if  she  wished  it;  but  especially  to  visit 
their  good  and  dear  brother  again,  particularly 
as  they  were  now  in  the  neighbourhood.  In  or- 
der to  fulfil  this  intention,  they  set  out  on  Thurs- 
day the  22nd  of  October,  from  Cassel ;  on  dri- 
ving through  the  Leipzic  gate,  he  said  to  his 
wife,  "O,  my  dear,  what  would  I  not  give  if  I 
could  now  travel  to  Marburg!"  Eliza  answer- 
ed, "  Well,  let  us  do  so."  Stilling,  however,  re- 
fused, for  he  thought  if  a  misfortune  awaited 
him,  it  might  happen  to  him  anywhere;  they 
therefore  rode  on,  the  brother  came  on  horseback 
to  meet  them,  and  in  the  morning  they  arrived 
safely  at  Braach. 

Their  stay  at  this  pleasant  place  was  fixed  for 
a  week,  during  which  time  Stilling  felt  like  some 
poor  criminal,  who  is  to  be  executed  in  a  few 
days.  However,  he  performed  the  operation  on 
a  lady  in  Rothenburg,  and  attended  several  pa- 
tients. Maria,  who  had  become  weakly  at 
Braach,  was-  to  return  with  them  to  Marburg, 
together  with  the  two  children,  and  their  depart- 
ure was  fixed  for  Thursday  the  29th  of  October. 
For  this  purpose,  brother  Coing  sent  to  the  post- 
ing-house at  Morschen,  and  ordered  the  horses. 

On  Wednesday  evening,  the  day  before  their 
departure,  Stilling's  melancholv  rose  to  such  a 
height  that  he  said  to  Eliza,  "  If  the  torment  of 
the  lost  in  hell  is  not  greater  than  mine,  it  is  still 
great  enough  !" 

The  next  morning,  the  postillion  came  at  the 
time  appointed,  he  had  driven  the  diligence  to 


158  HEINRICH 

Rothenburg,  and  consequently  brought  four  hor- 
ses, which,  however,  contrary  to  all  posting  reg- 
ulations, were  very  brisk  and  lively.  He  put  the 
horses  to  the  carriage,  and  drove  empty  through 
the  Fulda;  Stilling,  Eliza,  Maria,  the  children, 
and  the  brother,  were  transported  across,  about 
a  gun-shot  higher  up,  in  a  boat;  meanwhile,  the 
postillion  drove  up  the  meadow  on  the  other  side, 
and  wailed  on  the  opposite  shore. 

They  got  in ; — Stilling  sat  behind,  to  the  right ; 
next  to  him  Eliza,  with  Amalia  in  her  lap  ;  op- 
posite her  sat  Maria,  and  Frederick  opposite 
Stilling.  Brother  Coing  now  took  leave,  and 
went  back  again;  the  postillion  suddenly  smack- 
ed his  whip,  the  four  spirited  horses  went  off  in 
full  trot,  and  the  driver  turning  short  round,  the 
fore-wheels  got  entangled,  and  threw  the  car- 
riage to  the  ground  with  such  violence  that  the 
body  of  the  vehicle  burst  in  two  in  the  midst. 
Being  only  a  chaise,  and  open  in  the  front,  Eli- 
za, Maria,  and  the  two  children,  were  thrown 
out  upon  the  meadow;  but  Stilling,  who  was 
sitting  in  the  corner  on  the  falling  side,  contin- 
ued in  the  carriage,  and  was  seriously  hurt. 
Fortunately  the  wheels  came  off,  so  that  the 
coach  was  not  dragged  along;  there  it  lay,  there- 
fore, and  Stilling  was  so  fast  squeezed  in  that 
he  could  not  move.  It  is  extremely  remarkable 
that  all  his  melancholy  vanished  in  a  moment. 
Notwithstanding  the  violent  pain — for  his  whole 
body  was  as  if  it  had  been  broken  on  the  wheel, 
— he  felt  an  inward  tranquillity  and  cheerful- 
ness, such  as  he  had  hardly  before  experienced; 
and  although  he  was  still  utterly  unconscious 
what  the  consequences  might  be,  he  was  so  in- 
wardly resigned  to  the  Divine  will,  that  he  was 
unaffected  by  the  smallest  fear  of  death.  Much 
as  the  postillion  deserved  a  severe  reproof  and 
after  that  a  considerable  punishment,  Stilling 
said  nothing  further  to  him  than,  in  a  kind  man- 
ner, "  Friend,  you  have  turned  too  short.-' 

Eliza.  Maria,  and  the  children,  had  not  suffer- 
ed in  the  smallest  degree;  brother  Coing  came 
also  running  to  them ;  but  when  they  saw  the 
man  to  whom  they  were  so  much  attached,  ly- 
ing bloody  and  disfigured  beneath  the  coach, 
they  all  began  to  lament  bitterly;  the  carriage 
was  lifted  up  again,  and  Stilling,  wounded  and 
disabled,  halted  on  Eliza's  arm  back  again  to 
Braach;  the  postillion  dragged  the  equally  wound- 
ed and  disabled  vehicle  thither  also,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  escaped  being  soundly  beaten 
by  the  peasantry  of  that  place.  However,  they 
were  active  in  another  way ;  one  of  them  mount- 
ed a  horse  and  rode  full  gallop  to  Rothenburg  to 
fetch  medical  assistance,  and  the  others  sent  re- 
freshments, such  as  they  had,  and  as  well  as  they 
understood  what  was  necessary;  but  all  was  nat- 
urally received  as  if  it  were  the  most  precious 
and  suitable  of  its  kind. 

Stilling  was  in  a  miserable  condition  as  re- 
gards the  body;  the  whole  of  the  right  breast 
was  hugely  swollen,  and  when  one  pressed  the 
hand  over  it  a  noise  was  heard  ;  one  of  his  ribs 
was  fractured;  behind,  under  the  right  shoulder- 
blade,  he  felt  violent  pains;  he  had  a  wound  on 
the  right  temple,  which  bled  profusely,  and  was 
only  the  breadth  of  a  straw  distant  from  the  ar- 
tery ;  and  in  the  right  groin  and  hip  he  felt  great 
pain,  as  often  as  he  moved  his  thigh.  In  short, 
every  motion  was  painful. 

The  physicians  of  Rothenburg,  Meiss  and 
Freyss,  two  very  able  men,  soon  made  their  ap- 
pearance, and  by  their  faithful  care  and  the  Di- 
vine blessing,  Stilling  in  a  few  days  recovered 


STILLING. 

so  far  as  to  be  able  to  travel  to  Marburg.  But 
the  coach,  with  all  their  learning  and  abiliiy, 
they  were  unable  to  cure;  however,  they  pro- 
vided for  its  reparation,  which  was  committed 
to  the  court-saddler,  who  restored  it  so  ably  that 
it  was  firmer  than  before. 

On  Monday  the  2d  of  November  the  journey 
to  Marburg  was  commenced ;  Stilling  rode  slow- 
ly on  horseback,  because  he  did  not  choose  to 
trust  driving  in  such  dreadful  roads ;  and  it  was 
well  he  did  so  ;  for  the  ladies  and  children  were 
overturned  once  more,  yet  without  injury.  Co- 
ing accompanied  his  brother-in-law  on  horse- 
back to  Mabern,  where  Caroline  expected  them ; 
the  next  day  they  rode  all  together  to  Marburg, 
because  from  thence  there  is  a  regular  chaussee, 
but  Coing  returned  to  Braach.  Stilling  had  to 
struggle  for  a  season  with  the  consequences  of 
this  fall ;  in  particular,  a  giddiness  remained  for 
a  long  time,  which  however  at  length  disap- 
peared. 

Selling's  state  of  mind  during  this  journey  to 
Brunswick,  may  be  best  understood  by  a  simile 
— A  solitary  traveller  on  foot  enters  a  wood  in 
the  evening;  he  must  pass  through  this  before 
he  arrives  at  the  inn.  It  grows  dark;  the  moon 
shines  in  the  first  quarter,  consequently  only 
faintly;  a  very  suspicious  and  terrible  man  now 
joins  him,  never  leaves  him,  and  continually 
makes  as  if  he  would  attack  him  and  murder 
him;  at  length,  all  at  once  he  seizes  him  and 
wounds  him;  suddenly  some  of  the  traveller's 
best  friends  make  their  appearance,  the  enemy 
flies,  the  wounded  man  recognizes  his  friends, 
who  carry  him  to  the  inn,  and  nurse  him  till  he 
is  well  again.  Dear  readers,  take  this  simile  as 
you  will,  but  do  not  abuse  it. 

The  commencement  of  the  year  1802  proved 
a  grievous  one  for  Stilling  and  Eliza.  On  Sun- 
day the  3d  of  January,  he  received  a  letter  from 
his  friend  Meig  of  Heidelberg,  in  which  he  in- 
formed him  that  Lisette  was  ill,  but  that  he  did 
not  believe  it  was  of  serious  consequence,  for  the 
physicians  still  gave  hopes.  On  reading  this 
letter,  Stilling  felt  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind 
that  she  was  really  dead.  There  is  something 
in  his  soul,  which  causes  him  always  to  feel 
pleasure  when  he  knows  that  a  child,  or  any 
truly  pious  person,  is  dead,  for  he  is  conscious 
that  another  soul  is  in  safety;  this  conviction 
makes  him  feel  the  death  of  any  one  belonging 
to  him  less  than  is  customary ;  but  as  he  pos- 
sesses a  sympathizing  heart,  it  always  causes 
him  a  severe  struggle  with  respect  to  his  physical 
nature.  Such  was  also  now  the  case;  he  suf- 
fered much  for  some  hours;  then  offered  up  his 
Lisette  to  the  Lord  again  who  had  given  her  to 
hirn;  and  on  the  6th  of  January,  when  he  re- 
ceived from  Meig  the  news  of  her  decease,  he 
was  strong,  and  was  able  himself  effectually  to 
comfort  the  deeply-mourning  foster-parents ;  but 
Eliza  suffered  severe^. 

Their  friends,  the  Meigs,  buried  Lisette  in  a 
very  honorable  manner.  Meig  published  a  little 
book,  containing  an  account  of  her  life,  charac- 
ter, death,  and  burial,  together  with  some  little 
pieces  and  poems  which  this  event  occasioned. 

The  grief  which  these  foster-parents  felt  at  the 
departure  of  this  dear  girl,  can  be  scarcely  con- 
ceived. They  had  brought  her  up  and  educated 
her  excellenilv,  and  God  will  reward  them  for 
having  trained  her  up  in  His  fear,  and  in  reli- 
gious sentiments. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  old  mother  Wilhel- 
mi  followed  her  favorite  some  weeks  after,  even 


STILLING'S  YEARS  OF  TUITION. 


159 


as  her  daughter  Meig  had  long  before  appre- 
hended. 

About  this  time  died  also  Burgomaster  Eicke 
of  Minden,  Julia's  father.  Stilling  and  Eliza 
therefore  repeated  their  invitation  to  Julia  to 
come  as  soon  as  her  affairs  were  arranged;  she 
accepted  it,  and  arrived  in  Marburg  about  the 
middle  of  January,  where  she  was  so  much 
pleased  with  Sailing's  domestic  circle  and  chris- 
tian society,  that  she  at  length  expressed  a  wish 
to  live  in  the  family.  Stilling  and  Eliza  re- 
joiced at  this  declaration,  and  the  matter  was 
soon  arranged;  Julia  pays  a  sufficient  sum  lor 
her  board,  and  occupies  herself  with  the  educa- 
tion of  the  little  girls,  Amalia  and  Christina. 
Eliza,  indeed,  protested  seriously  against  being 
paid  for  her  board;  but  Julia  maintained  thai 
she  would  not  come  to  live  with  them  on  any 
other  terms.  These  nearly  allied  souls  were 
therefore  at  length  unanimous.  In  March,  Ju- 
lia travelled  to  Erfurth  to  visit  a  friend,  and  re- 
turned the  August  following.  From  that  time, 
she  has  been  incorporated  into  Slilling's  domes- 
tic circle,  in  which  she  is  a  real  blessing  from 
God,  by  her  piety,  cheerfulness,  suffering  expe- 
rience, and  particularly  in  the  governance  and 
education  of  'he  two  children. 

This  spring,  another  journey  was  undertaken  ; 
Stilling  was  sent  for  from  Fulda,  whither  Eliza 
accompanied  him.  On  returning,  they  passed 
through  Hanau  and  Frankfort,  and  visited  also 
Prince  Frederic  of  Anhalt  and  the  Countess 
Louisa,  who,  the  preceding  autumn,  had  remo- 
ved from  Marburg  to  Homburg-vor-der-Höhe. 
On  this  occasion  they  became  acquainted  with 
the  widow  of  Prince  Victor  of  Anhalt ;  she  is  a 
worthy  sister  of  the  Princess  Christina  of  Lippe, 
a  true  Christian,  and  humility  personified.  Af- 
ter an  absence  of  about  four  weeks,  they  return- 
ed to  Marburg,  soon  after  which  Amalia  was 
safely  delivered  of  a  daughter. 

The  important  period  also  approached,  in 
which  Caroline  was  to  be  confirmed,  previous 
to  receiving  the  sacrament, — she  was  now  four- 
teen years  and  a  half  old,  and  tall  and  strong  of 
her  age;  she  had  received  very  excellent  re- 
ligious instruction  for  two  years,  from  the  two 
reformed  preachers,  Schlarbaum  and  Breiden- 
stein, Sailing's  worthy  friends,  and  it  had  oper- 
ated beneficially  upon  her.  She  possesses  a 
mind  disposed  to  piety  and  religion  ;  and  it  is  a 
great  joy  and  consolation  to  her  father,  that  his 
three  eldest  children  are  on  the  way  to  become 
true  Christians.  Julia  wrote  to  Caroline  from 
Erfurth,  and  commissioned  Aunt  Duising  to 
present  her  with  the  letter  on  the  day  of  her 
confirmation:  it  is  worth  the  while  to  insert  it 
here : — 

"  My  dear  and  ever-beloved  Caroline  : 
"  On  the  most  solemn  day  of  thy  life,  on  which 
all  thy  dear  friends  press  thee  with  new  affection 
to  their  heart,  my  prayers  will  also  mingle  with 
theirs  ; — probably  in  the  very  hour  in  which  thou 
wilt  make  the  solemn  vow  of  eternal  love  and 
fidelity  to  Him  who  ought  always  to  fill  our 
whole  soul,  I  shall  also  be  asking  of  Him,  faith, 
fidelity,  and  love,  for  thee. 

"My  best  and  dearest  Caroline,  I  earnestly 
intreat  thee  duly  to  consider  and  keep  that  which 
thou  promisest  on  this  day,  so  important  for  thee 
in  time  and  eternity ; — love  the  Lord  so  as  thou 
lovest  no  one  else!  Thou  canst  not  do  any 
thing  greater,  better,  or  more  important;  do  not 
suffer  thyself  to  be  deprived  ofthat  crown  which 


thy  faith  this  day  views  in  the  Lord's  hand  for 
thee,  either  by  flattery,  or  by  the  contempt  of 
the  world;  but  continue  faithful  to  Him  until 
death,"  &c.  ' 

The  confirmation  took  place  at  Whitsuntide, 
with  prayer  and  much  emotion  on  all  sides. 

Sailing's  situation,  meanwhile,  became  more 
and  more  oppressive.  On  the  one  hand,  his  re- 
ligious sphere  of  action  became  greater,  more 
profitable,  and  considerable: — the  directors  of 
the  "  London  Tract  Society,"  which,  in  the  space 
of  a  couple  of  years,  had  disseminated  edifying 
and  useful  publications  amongst  the  common 
people  in  England  to  the  amount  of  a  million  of 
guilders,  wrote  him  a  heart-cheering  letter,  and 
encouraged  him  to  set  on  foot  a  similar  society 
in  Germany.  At  the  same  lime,  also,  his  reli- 
gious correspondence  increased,  as  well  as  his 
practice  as  an  oculist ;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,, 
his  peculiar  academical  vocation  became  more 
and  more  unproductive;  the  German  indemni- 
fication had  transferred  the  provinces,  which 
generally  furnished  the  university  with  students, 
to  other  rulers,  who  had  themselves  universities,, 
whither  their  young  people  were  obliged  to  re- 
sort and  study;  the  number  of  students  dimin- 
ished, therefore,  visibly ;  and  those  that  contin- 
ued to  resort  to  Marburg  applied  themselves  to 
such  studies  as  might  procure  them  a  mainte- 
nance, to  which  the  financial  department  does 
not  belong;  and  finally,  a  decrease  in  the  desire 
to  study  was  observable  in  all  the  universities, 
the  cause  of  which  need  not  be  discussed  here. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  Stilling;s  auditory  diminish- 
ed to  such  a  degree  that  he  had  often  only  two 
or  three  hearers.  This  state  of  things  was  in- 
tolerable to  him.  To  have  so  large  a  stipend, 
and  to  be  able  to  do  so  little  for  it,  did  not  con- 
sist with  his  conscience;  and  yet  he  was  nailed, 
as  it  were,  to  his  post ; — he  could  not  do  other- 
wise, and  was  obliged  to  persevere;  for  without 
this  income  he  could  not  live.  Besides  all  this, 
his  great  end  and  motive,  to  work  and  live  for 
the  Lord  and  his  kingdom  alone,  filled  his  whole 
soul ;  he  saw  and  heard,  every  day,  how  exten- 
sively beneficial  his  religious  sphere  of  action 
was,  and  this  he  was  obliged  to  make  a  secon- 
dary consideration  for  the  sake  of  a  very  barren 
maintenance. 

Finally,  another  important  consideration  was 
added  to  all  this.  The  Elector  of  Hesse  is  sin- 
cerely desirous  of  supporting  religion  ;  but  he 
has  also  a  maxim,  which,  abstractedly  consid- 
ered, is  perfectly  correct — that  every  servant  of 
the  state  might  to  give  himself  up  entirely  to  the  de- 
partment to  tohich  he  has  once  devoted  himself.  He 
is  not  at  all  pleased,  when  a  person  enters  upon 
another  vocation.  But  Stilling  was  now  so  cir- 
cumstanced, that  he  was  obliged  to  act  in  oppo- 
sition to  both  parts  of  this  maxim  ;  which  also 
caused  him  many  a  mournful  hour.  His  con- 
flict was  painful:  but  at  this  very  time  Provi- 
dence began  to  make  distant  arrangements  for 
the  accomplishment  of  its  plans.  It  is  worth 
while  that  I  relate  every  thing  here  with  the 
greatest  minuteness. 

On  the  5th  of  July,  1802.  Stilling  received  a 
letter  from  a  poor  mechanic,  in  a  place  at  a 
great  distance  from  Marburg,  who  neither  knew 
nor  could  know  one  word  of  Stilling's  situation, 
because  he  revealed  it  to  no  one,  in  which  the 
man  stated  that  he  had  had  a  remarkable  dream, 
in  which  he  had  seen  him  traversing  and  occu- 
pied in  a  large  field,  in  which  much  treasure 


160  HEINRICH 

lay  scattered  about  in  small  heaps;  and  that  he 
had  been  commissioned  to  write  to  him,  and  tell 
him,  that  he  ought  now  to  gather  all  this  treasure 
into  one  heap,  then  sit  doion  quietly,  and  attend  to 
this  single  treasure  alone. 

Stilling,  during  the  whole  of  his  life,  had  seen, 
heard,  and  felt  so  many  effects  of  the  developed 
faculty  of  presentiment,  and  also  so  many — 
without  the  theory  of  the  faculty  of  presenti- 
ment— incomprehensible  predictions  of  hyster- 
ical and  hypochondriacal  persons,  that  he  is  well 
aware  to  what  such  things  generally  belong, 
and  under  what  head  they  ought  to  be  classed. 
But  the  contents  of  this  letter  harmonized  so 
much  with  what  passed  in  his  own  mind,  that 
he  could  not  possibly  regard  it  as  a  matter  of 
chance.  He  wrote  therefore  to  the  man,  saying, 
that  though  he  was  well  aware  that  the  uniting 
of  that  which  was  manifold  with  that  which 
was  simple,  would  be  good  for  him,  yet  he  was 
obliged  to  live  by  his  professorship;  he  there- 
fore wished  for  a  further  explanation  of  his 
meaning.  The  answer  was,  that  he  must  resign 
himself  to  the  Lord's  guidance,  who  would  duly 
arrange  every  thing.  This  event  produced  in 
Stilling's  mind  the  first  foreboding  of  an  ap- 
proaching change,  and  of  the  development  of 
the  Lord's  intentions  respecting  him;  and  gave 
him,  frotn  that  period,  the  proper  direction,  by 
fixing  his  eye  on  the  hitherto  scarcely  percep- 
tible aim,  so  that  he  might  not  lose  any  lime  in 
preparing  himself  for  it. 

About  the  same  time,  or  somewhat  later,  he 
received  a  letter  also  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  König 
of  Burgdorf,  in  Emmenthal  in  the  canton  of  Bern, 
requesting  him  to  go  thither;  adding  that  the  ex- 
penses of  the  journey  were  provided  lor.  This 
Mr.  König  was  blind  of  the  cataract,  and  had 
already  corresponded  with  Stilling  on  that  ac- 
count ;  the  latter  had  also  promised  him  to  come, 
as  soon  as  he  should  be  informed  that  the  travel- 
ling expenses  would  be  repaid.  Stilling  and 
Eliza,  therefore,  now  began  to  prepare  for  their 
second  journey  to  Switzerland. 

During  all  these  occurrences,  father  Wilhelm's 
state  of  health,  which  had  been  hitherto  so  very 
firm  and  durable,  took  quite  a  different  direction. 
With  respect  to  his  mental  powers,  he  had  be- 
come so  completely  a  child  that  he  had  no  longer 
any  understanding  or  judgment;  but  his  body 
now  began  to  neglect  the  functions  necessary  to 
life;  at  the  same  time,  his  continual  lying  posi- 
tion produced  painful  sores,  so  that  his  condi- 
tion was  extremely  pitiable.  The  surgeon  was 
obliged  to  come  daily,  with  a  couple  of  assist- 
ants, to  bind  his  wounded  back  and  other  parts; 
during  which  operation  the  poor  man  moaned 
so  dreadfully  that  the  whole  neighbourhood 
prayed  for  his  dissolution. 

Stilling  could  not  endure  the  misery;  he  gen- 
erally went  out  when  the  time  for  binding  up 
arrived;  but  even  in  the  interval  Wilhelm  often 
moaned  piteously.  The  day  of  his  deliverance 
at  length  arrived;  on  the  6th  of  September,  at 
half-past  ten  in  the  morning,  he  passed  over  into 
the  blissful  habitations  of  his  forefathers.  Still- 
ing had  him  interred  with  the  solemnities  cus- 
tomiry  to  persons  in  affluent  circumstances. 

Wilhelm  Stilling  is  now  therefore  no  longer 
here  below;  his  serene  walk,  unobserved  by  the 
great  of  this  world,  was  nevertheless  seed  for  a 
fruitful  futurity.  He  is  not  always  a  great  man 
who  is  celebrated  far  and  wide;  nor  is  he  al- 
ways great  who  does  much ;  but  that  individual 
is  so,  in  a  peculiar  sense,  who  sows  here,  to  reap 


STILLING. 

a  thousand-fold  in  the  world  to  come.  Wilhelm 
Stilling  was  one  who  sowed  in  tears;  he  went 
forth  weeping. and  bearing  precious  seed;  now 
he  is  doubtless  reaping  with  juy.  His  children, 
Heinrich  and  Eliza,  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of 
his  welcome ;  they  rejoice  in  the  thought  that  he 
will  be  sati.sfied  with  them. 

A  week  after  father  Wilhelm  Stilling's  death 
Stilling  and  Eliza  commenced  their  second  Swiss 
journey.  They  left  Marburg  on  Monday  the  13th. 
of  September,  1802.  At  Frankfort,  Stilling  found 
ophthalmic  patients,  who  detained  him  a  few  days. 
On  Thursday  the  16th,  they  arrived  early  in  the 
afternoon  at  Heidelberg,  where  the  welcome 
from  Madame  Mieg  was  deeply  affecting  to 
both.  Mieg  was  engaged  by  business  in  the 
country,  and  did  not  arrive  till"  towards  evening; 
he  had  dined  in  company  with  a  person  of  emi- 
nence, who  had  expressed  the  idea  that  some gieat 
man  ought  to  keep  Stilling  in  pay,  solely  that  he 
might  carry  on  his  benevolent  practice  as  an  oculist, 
without  impediment.  This  again  excited  Still- 
ing's attention,  together  with  all  that  had  pre- 
ceded it.  The  dream  of  the  mechanic;  Father 
Wilhelm's  death;  and  this  speech,  which  in  it- 
self was  of  no  importance,  but  made  an  impres- 
sion just  at  this  time;  and  finally,  another  Swiss 
journey — all  this  together  produced  in  Stilling's 
mind  a  feeling  of  exalted  expectation. 

The  following  day,  Friday  the  17th  of  Sep- 
tember, the  two  travellers  pursued  their  way  to 
Carlsruhe. 

I  must  here  go  back  a  little  in  my  narrative, 
in  order  to  bring  every  thing  into  a  proper  point 
of  view. 

Jacob,  as  I  have  already  observed,  had  be- 
come a  father,  the  previous  spring.  Notwith- 
standing his  ability  and  integrity,  and  notwith- 
standing all  the  favorable  testimonials  of  the 
Marburg  magistracy,  not  the  smallest  thing 
could  be  accomplished  for  him  at  Cassel. 
With  his  mode  of  thinking,  it  was  impossible 
to  live  by  the  practice  of  jurisprudence;  his 
father  was  therefore  obliged  to  assist  him  con- 
siderably, and  besides  this,  he  now  saw  an  in- 
creasing family  before  him.  All  this  together 
pressed  much  upon  the  worthy  young  man;  he 
therefore  urgently  entreated  his  father  to  recom- 
mend him  to  the  Elector,  on  his  journey  through 
Carlsruhe;  for  as  he  was  born  in  the  palatinate, 
he  could  lay  claim  to  being  provided  for  there. 

It  is  contrary  to  Stilling's  whole  character  to 
ask  any  thing  of  the  kind  of  a  prince  with  whom 
he  is  in  particular  favor,  or  recommend  any  one 
to  an  office.  Hence,  however  necessary  it  was 
that  his  son  should  be  provided  for,  it  seemed  to 
him  equally  difficult,  and  almost  impossible,  to 
make  application  on  his  behalf  to  the  Elector. 

I  must  also  mention,  that  the  Couptess  of 
Waldeck,  in  order  to  gratify  Jacob  on  his  wed- 
ding-day, had  requested  the  reigning  Count  of 
Wernigerode  to  give  him  the  title  of  "Counsel- 
lor of  Justice;"  he  did  so,  and  the  Elector  of 
Hesse  also  permitted  him  to  make  use  of  this 
title.  I  now  return  to  the  continuation  of  the 
narrative. 

Stilling  and  Eliza  arrived  at  Carlsruhe  in  the 
evening  of  Fridav  the  17th  of  September.  On 
Saturday  morning,  the  18th,  Stilling  looked  into 
the  well-known  Moravian  watch-word  book, 
which  contains  two  passages  from  the  Bible  and 
two  verses  of  a  hymn  for  every  day  in  the  year. 
The  first  passage  is  called  the  watch- word,  and 
the  second,  the  doctrinal  text.  Stilling  always 
takes  this  book  with  him,  when  travelling,  in 


STILLIN  G'S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


161 


order  to  have  daily  a  religious  subject  on  which 
he  may  employ  both  his  head  and  his  heart.  He 
found  with  astonishment,  that  the  words  forthat 
day  were,  "  And  now,  O  Lord  God,  establish  the 
word  that  thou  hast  spoken  concerning  thy  ser- 
vant and  concerning  his  house,  tor  ever,  and  do 
as  thou  hast  said:"  2  Samuel,  vii.,  25;  and  the 
verse  of  the  hymn  was, 

"His  faithfulness  O  let  us  praise, 
And  to  Him  consecrate  our  days : 
His  promises  He  will  fulfil, 
To  those  that  know  and  do  his  will. 

Hallelujah." 

He  then  sought  out  also  the  doctrinal  text  for 
the  day,  and  found  the  beautiful  words,  "  Be 
thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee 
the  crown  of  life." 

This  remarkable  circumstance  completed  the 
pleasing  foreboding,  and  the  confidence  he  had, 
that  it  would  come  to  some  kind  of  elucidation 
respecting  him  during  the  day.  Soon  after,  a 
court-page  entered  the  room,  presenting  the 
Elector's  compliments,  and  requesting  him  to 
come  to  him  at  nine  o'clock,  and  to  stay  to  din- 
ner with  him. 

In  consequence  of  this  command,  and  thus 
prepared,  Stilling  went  at  nine  o'clock  to  the 
palace,  where  he  was  instantly  admitted  and 
very  graciously  received.  After  exchanging  a 
few  words,  Stilling  felt  himself  at  liberty  to 
recommend  his  son;  he  began  by  premising, 
that  nothing  was  more  difficult  for  him  than  to 
make  application  of  the  kind  to  princes  who 
showed  him  favor;  however,  his  circumstances 
and  situation  pressed  him  so  much,  that  he  was 
now  constrained  to  make  an  exception  to  his 
rule.  He  then  gave  a  true  account  of  his  son, 
and  offered  to  procure  the  most  valid  written 
proofs,  namely,  the  testimonials  of  the  Marburg 
magistracy;  and  finally  besought  the  Elector  to 
let  him  serve  in  the  lowest  station,  and  then 
promote  him  as  he  might  deserve.  If  he  only 
earned  so  much  as  to  enable  him  to  live,  with 
due  economy,  he  would  look  upon  it  as  a  great 
favor.  He  then  concluded  with  the  words, 
■"Your  Highness  will  not  take  this  first  and  last 
recommendation  ungraciously  of  me."  The 
Elector  expressed  himself  very  favorably;  and 
said  he  would  see  if  he  could  not  provide  for  him 
in  the  organization  of  the  palatinate.  "Speak 
also,"  added  the  excellent  prince,  "with  the 
ministers  and  privy  counsellors,  in  order  that 
they  may  know  of  the  matter  when  it  is  brought 
forward."  It  follows  of  course  that  Stilling 
promised  to  do  so,  and  also  kept  his  promise. 

This  introduction  gave  occasion  to  speak  of 
Stilling's  own  situation.  The  urbanity  of  the 
Elector  imparted  such  a  confidence  to  Stilling 
that  he  expressed  himself  exactly  as  he  inwardly 
felt ;  on  which  this  great  and  noble-minded  prince 
rejoined,  "  I  hope  God  vrill  give  me  the  opportunity 
of  bringing  you  out  of  this  painful  situation,  and 
of  placing  you  so  that  you  may  be  enabled  to  attend 
solely  to  your  religious  authorship,  and  to  your  ocu- 
listic  practice;  you  must  be  set  entirely  at  liberty 
from  all  other  earthly  occupations  and  connections." 

[t  is  impossible  to  describe  how  Stilling  felt 
at  that  moment,  in  which  the  great  development 
of  his  destiny  beamed  so  gloriously  upon  him 
from  afar.  "  Are  you  in  haste  with  respect  to 
the  accomplishment  of  this  affair?"  continued 
the  Elector.  Stilling;  replied,  "No,  most  gra- 
cious Sire!  and  I  most  humbly  beg  you  by  all 
means  to  wait  unil  Providence  opens  a  door 
somewhere,  in  order  that  no  one  may  suffer  by 


it,  or  be  neglected."  The  prince  rejoined,  "You 
can,  therefore,  wait  half-a-year,  or  a  year  1" 
Stilling  replied,  "I  will  wait  as  long  as  God 
pleases,  and  until  your  Highness  has  found  the 
way  which  Providence  marks  out." 

I  pass  over  the  remainder  of  this  remarkable 
day  in  Stilling's  history,  only  observing  that  he 
also  paid  his  respects  to  the  Margravine,  who  was 
still  inconsolable  for  the  death  of  her  late  consort. 

He  that  is  acquainted  with  the  Elector  of  Ba- 
den knows  that  this  ruler  never  retracts  his 
princely  word,  but  always  performs  more  than 
he  promises.  Every  feeling  christian  heart  can 
sympathise  with  Stilling,  as  he  then  felt.  Blessed 
be  the  Lord!  his  ways  are  holy!  happy  he  who 
resigns  himself  to  Him  without  reserve ;  he  that 
places  his  confidence  in  Him,  shall  never  be 
confounded ! 

On  Sunday  morning,  Stilling  performed  the 
operation  on  a  poor  old  peasant,  whom  the  Elec- 
tor himself  had  sent  for;  he  then  continued  his 
journey  to  Switzerland  with  his  Eliza.  The 
nearer  they  approached  the  frontiers,  the  more 
fearful  grew  the  reports,  that  the  whole  of  Switz- 
erland was  under  arms  and  in  a  state  of  insur- 
rection. This  was  certainly  not  pleasant;  but 
Stilling  knew  that  he  was  travelling  in  his  be- 
nevolent vocation,  and  therefore,  with  Eliza,  put 
firm  confidence  in  the  Divine  protection;  nor 
was  this  confidence  unavailing. 

At  Frieburg,  in  the  Breisgau,  they  learned 
the  severe  trial  which  the  city  of  Zurich  was 
compelled  to  endure  on  the  13th  of  September, 
but  likewise  that  it  had  powerfully  experienced 
the  Lord's  protection.  In  the  evening  of  Tues- 
day the  2lst  of  September,  they  arrived  safe  and 
well  at  Basle,  at  the  house  of  the  worthy  Mr. 
Schorndorf;  but  as  there  were  still  disturbances 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Burgdorf,  Stilling  wrote 
to  the  Rev.  Mr.  König,  stating  that  he  was  at 
Basle,  and  expected  intelligence  from  him  when 
he  could  come  with  safety.  Until  this  intelli- 
gence arrived,  they  continued  quietly  and  con- 
tentedly at  Basle  ;  where  he  attended  some  oph- 
thalmic patients,  and  operated  upon  two  blind 
people. 

On  the  following  day,  Wednesday  the  22d  of 
September,  Stilling  had  a  great  pleasure  afford- 
ed him.  There  lives  in  Basle  a  very  able 
painter,  of  the  name  of  Marquard  Wocher,  a 
man  of  the  noblest  heart  and  christian  senti- 
ments; on  Stilling's  first  Swiss  journey,  he  had 
conducted  him  to  a  Mr.  Reber,  a  respectable 
gentleman  there,  who  possessed  a  very  elegant 
collection  of  pictures;  amongst  which  an  "Ecce 
Homo"  drew  Stilling's  particular  attention.  Af- 
ter contemplating  for  some  time  this  representa- 
tion of  the  suffering  Saviour,  tears  came  into 
his  eyes;  Wocher  observed  it,  and  asked  him 
if  the  picture  pleased  him.  Stilling  answered, 
"  Extremely !  Ah,  if  I  had  only  a  faithful  copy 
of  it!  but  I  cannot  afford  it."  "  You  shall  have 
it,"  rejoined  Wocher;  "I  will  make  you  a  pres- 
ent of  it." 

On  the  day  above-mentioned,  Wocher  brought 
this  beautiful  painting  as  a  welcome ;  every  con- 
noisseur admires  it. 

This  is  also  the  place  where  I  must  mention 
one  of  the  extraordinary  favors  of  God.  Who 
can  recount  them  alH  but  one  and  another, 
which  stand  in  connection  with  this  history, 
must  not  be  omitted. 

My  readers  will  remember  Mr.  Isaac  of 
Waldstadt,  and  how  kindly  he  received  Stilling 
in  the  greatest  depth  of  his  misery,  and  clothed 


162  HEINRICH 

him  from  head  to  foot.  Stilling,  it  is  true, 
whilst  he  was  with  Mr.  Spanier,  had  repaid 
him  for  the  money  he  had  Jaid  out;  but  it 
grieved  him  often  that  he  could  not  in  any  way 
recompense  to  the  worthy  family  of  this  noble- 
minded  individual  his  kindness  to  him.  This 
recompense  was  now  to  be  made  in  a  very 
striking  manner,  a  manner  worthy  of  God. 

Mr.  Isaac's  eldest  son  had  also  learned  the 
trade  of  a  tailor,  and  in  the  course  of  his  travels 
had  been  at  Basle,  where  he  resided  some  years; 
and  being  also  a  sincere  lover  of  religion,  he 
had  become  acquainted  with  the  true  worship- 
pers of  Christ  in  that  place.  He  had  afterwards 
settled  at  Waldstadt— Rade  Vorm  Wald,  in  the 
duchy  of  Berg,  his  native  place,  taken  his  broth- 
ers and  sisters  to  him,  and  kept  house  with  them ; 
but  as  he  could  not  bear  the  sitting-posture,  he 
began  a  little  shop;  a  worthy  merchant  gave 
him  credit,  and  thus  he  maintained  himself  and 
the  family  honestly  and  uprightly.  This  sum- 
mer, on  the  23d  of  August,  a  fire  broke  out;  in 
a  few  hours  the  whole  town  was  laid  in  ashes, 
and  the  good  children  of  the  pious  Isaac  not 
only  lost  that  which  belonged  to  them,  but  also 
the  whole  of  the  stock  bought  on  credit.  Friend 
Becker,  for  such  is  the  real  family-name,  did 
not  communicate  this  misfortune  to  Stilling,  for 
he  was  too  delicate  in  his  sentiments  to  do  so; 
but  another  friend  wrote  to  him,  and  reminded 
him  of  his  obligations  to  this  family.  Stilling 
felt  himself  in  a  dilemma;  what  he  could  give 
the  family  even  at  the  utmost,  was  only  a  trifle 
for  them,  and  yet,  situated  as  he  was,  it  would 
be  oppressively  felt  by  himself  j  he  therefore 
sent  what  he  could,  and  as,  just  before  his  jour- 
ney, he  wrote  No.  12  of  the  "Grey  Man,"  he 
annexed  to  it  an  account  of  this  calamity,  and 
besought  compassionate  aid.  While  remaining 
in  Basle,  Stilling,  at  the  request  of  the  members 
of  the  German  Society,  gave  a  religious  address, 
at  which  several  hundred  persons  were  present; 
at  the  close  of  the  discourse,  Stilling  reminded 
them  of  his  former  friend,  and  related  his  mis- 
fortune to  them ;  and  his  address  operated  so 
effectually  that  the  same  evening  nearly  a  hun- 
dred guilders  were  collected  and  brought  to 
Stilling.  This  was  the  handsome  commence- 
ment of  a  considerable  assistance;  for  the  me- 
morial in  No.  12  of  the  "Grey  Man,"  produced 
about  a  thousand  guilders  for  Becker's  children, 
and  about  five  hundred  for  the  town  of  Rade 
Vorm  Wald,  all  which  money  was  transmitted 
to  Stilling. 

I  relate  this,  merely  to  prove  that  the  Lord 
provides  so  completely  for  those  who  suffer 
themselves  to  be  guided  entirely  and  uncondi- 
tionally by  Him,  that  they  are  enabled  to  repay 
all  debts  whatever,  and  even  testimonies  of 
Christian  affection. 

In  a  few  days  the  news  arrived  from  Burg- 
dorf  that  every  thing  was  quiet  there;  in  conse- 
quence of  which,  Stilling  and  Eliza  set  out  on 
the  29th  of  September.  He  performed  the  op- 
eration on  an  individual  at  Liestall ;  at  Leufel- 
fingen,  they  dined  with  their  friend  Madame 
Fhrhebrcher;  at  Olten  they  found  friends  from 
A-.rau,  with  whom  they  drank  tea;  and  at  Aar- 
burg  they  were  fetched  by  the  worthy  bailiff 
Senn,  of  Böfingen,  with  whom  they  were  to  pass 
the  night.  As  they  drove  down  the  magnificent 
vale  of  Aar  in  the  evening,  and  whilst  the  de- 
clining sun  irradiated  the  whole  landscape,  Still- 
ing saw,  all  at  once,  in  the  south-west,  above  the 
horizon,  a  purple-coloured  meteor,  which  pre- 


STILLING. 

sented  a  brill  iant  appearance ;  he  soon  discovered 
that  it  was  a  snowy  mountain,  probably  the 
Jungfrau,  or  the  Junglerhorn.  He  that  has 
never  seen  any  thing  of  the  kind  can  have  no 
conception  of  it;  it  is  just  as  if  the  individual 
beheld  a  celestial  landscape  in  the  regions  of 
light;  but  the  view  is  all  that  is  pleasing,  for  to 
climb  up  thither,  and  to  dwell  in  the  eternal  ice 
and  snow,  would  not  be  very  agreeable.  Friend 
Senn,  who  drove  before  in  his  cabriolet,  turned 
about  and  exclaimed,  "  What  divine  majesty !  I 
have  seen  the  snow-hills  illuminated  many  hun- 
dred times,  and  yet  the  sight  always  affects  me." 

After  being  very  kindly  entertained  at  Mr. 
Senn's  house  at  Zofingen,  they  rode  the  next 
morning  to  Burgdorf,  where  they  arrived  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  took  up  their  quar- 
ters at  the  parsonage.  The  town  of  Burgdorf 
lies  on  a  hill,  which  resembles  a  saddle;  on  the 
summit  towards  the  west,  stands  the  church, 
with  the  parsonage;  and  on  the  eastern  summit 
lies  the  castle;  on  the  saddle  between  these  two 
summits,  lies  the  town  itself,  which  hangs  down 
on  both  sides  like  a  parti-coloured  saddle-cloth; 
on  the  northern  side,  the  Emme,  a  roaring  wood- 
land torrent,  rushes  past.  There  is  a  beautiful 
prospect  from  both  summits;  towards  the  north- 
west are  the  Jura,  there  called  the  Blue  Mount- 
ains, and  in  the  south  the  magnificent  Alpine 
range  appears  again,  from  the  Mutterhorn  and 
Schreckhorn,  to  a  considerable  distance  beyond 
the  Jungfrau. 

Stilling  operated  upon  several  blind  persons 
here;  the  worthy  Mr.  König  regained  the  per- 
fect sight  of  one  eye;  besides  these,  he  also  at- 
tended upon  many  ophthalmic  patients.  I  must 
mention  one  operation,  in  particular,  during 
which  something  occurred  which  throws  light 
upon  the  character  of  the  Swiss  peasantry. 
Two  strong  and  handsome  men,  dressed  as 
peasants,  but  in  a  very  decent  and  cleanly  man- 
ner— for  cleanliness  is  a  prominent  feature  in 
the  character  of  the  Swiss — came  to  the  parson- 
age, with  an  aged  and  venerable  grey-headed 
man,  and  inquired  for  the  strange  doctor:  Still- 
ing came,  and  one  of  them  said  to  him,  "We 
have  brought  our  father  to  you;  he  is  blind  j 
can  you  help  him  V  Stilling  looked  at  his  eyesr 
and  replied,  "Yes,  dear  friends!  With  God's 
help,  your  father  shall  return  home  seeing." 
The  men  were  silent,  but  the  big  tears  rolled  like 
pearls  down  their  cheeks;  the  lips  of  the  old 
man  trembled,  and  his  sightless  eyes  were  wet. 

During  the  operation,  one  of  the  sons  placed 
himself  on  one  side  of  his  father,  and  the  other 
on  the  other  side;  in  this  position,  thev  looked 
on.  When  all  was  over,  and  the  father  saw 
again,  the  tears  flowed  afresh,  but  no  one  said  a 
word,  till  the  eldest  said,  "Doctor,  what  do  we 
owe  youT'  Stilling  answered,  "I  am  not  an 
oculist  for  money;  but  as  I  am  on  a  journey, 
and  am  at  much  expense,  I  will  take  something, 
if  you  can  give  me  any  thing;  but  it  must  not 
be  burdensome  to  you  in  the  least."  The  eld- 
est son  replied,  pathetically,  "Nothing  is  bur- 
densome to  us  that  regards  our  father;"  and  the 
younger  added,  "  Our  left  hand  does  not  take 
back  what  our  right  hand  has  given ;"  which  is 
as  much  as  to  say,  "What  we  give,  we  give 
willingly."  Stilling  pressed  their  hands,  with 
tears,  and  said,  "  Excellent!  you  are  worthy  peo- 
ple; God  will  bless  you." 

Stilling  and  Eliza  made  many  friends  in  Burg- 
dorf.  They  were  loaded  with  kindnesses  and 
testimonies  of  affection;  and  the  excellent  Ma- 


STILLING'S  ^EA 


RS  OF  TUIT  ON. 


163 


dame  König  maae  them  ashamed  by  her  su- 
perabundant faithful  attention  and  hospitality. 
Here  also  they  became  acquainted  with  the  cel- 
ebrated Pestalozzi  and  his  institution  for  educa- 
tion, which  now  excites  so  much  attention  every 
where.  Pestalozzis  prominent  feature  is  love 
to  man,  and  particularly  to  children ;  hence  he 
has  long  devoted  himself  to  the  subject  of  edu- 
cation ;  he  is  consequently  an  estimable  and  no- 
ble-minded man.  That  which  is  taught  is  not, 
strictly  speaking,  the  object  that  excites  so  much 
attention,  but  it  is  his  plan  of  tuition,  the  in- 
struction of  children,  which  is  astonishing,  and 
no  one  would  believe  it  till  he  had  seen  and 
heard  it;  but  it  is  peculiarly  only  the  intuitive 
perceptions  that  are  developed  by  it,  which  have 
reference  to  time  and  space;  in  this  his  pupils 
attain,  in  a  short  time,  to  a  high  degree  of  per- 
fection. But  how  it  will  result  with  respect  to 
the  development  of  abstract  ideas,  and  of  the 
moral  and  religious  powers,  and,  generally,  what 
influence  the  Pestalozzian  method  will  have 
upon  practical  life  in  future,  time  must  reveal. 
It  is  however  necessary  to  be  careful,  and  first 
of  all  to  see  what  will  become  of  the  boys  that 
are  educated  in  this  manner.  It  is  really  a  haz- 
ardous thing,  to  drive  on  at  such  a  rapid  rate  in 
matters  of  education,  before  one  is  sure  of  a  good 
result. 

On  Monday,  the  4th  of  October,  in  the  after- 
noon, Stilling  and  Eliza  travelled  four  leagues 
further  to  Bern,  where  they  lodged  with  Steward 
Niehans,  a  pious  and  faithful  friend  of  God  and 
man.  Their  four  days'  residence  in  this  extreme- 
ly beautiful  town  was  completely  taken  up  by 
business:  cataract  operations,  ministering  to 
many  ophthalmic  patients,  and  paying  and  re- 
ceiving visits,  rapidly  succeeded  each  other. 
The  two  travellers  here  also  added  greatly  to 
their  stock  of  friends;  and  Stilling  became  inti- 
mate more  particularly  with  the  three  pious 
preachers  Wittenbach,  Müesslin,  and  Lorsa. 
Nor  must  the  estimable  brothers  Studer  be  for- 
gotten ;  one  of  whom  presented  him  with  a  beau- 
tifully coloured  copperplate,  representing  the 
prospect  from  Bern  to  the  snowy  mountains, 
drawn  and  engraved  by  himself. 

On  the  10th  of  October,  Stilling  and  Eliza  set 
off  again  from  Bern.  On  the  way,  they  saw  at 
Hindelbank  the  celebrated  monument  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Langhan's  lady,  a  performance  of  the  great 
Hessian  artist  Nahl. 

At  Burgdorf  Stilling  operated  upon  some 
blind  people,  and  then  both  set  out  again  by  way 
ofZofini^en  to  Zurich,  Winterthur,  and  St.  Gall, 
where  they  lodged  with  the  pious  and  learned 
Antistes  Stahelin,  and  again  formed  a  friendly 
alliance  with  many  estimable  individuals.  He 
there  couched  only  one  person,  but  attended 
several  who  were  diseased  in  the  eye. 

On  Wednesday,  the  27th  of  October,  they 
travelled  through  the  paradisiacal  Thurgau, 
along  the  Bodensee,  to  Schaff  hausen.  On  the 
road  thither,  a  man  was  freed  from  the  cataract 
at  Arbon.  At  Schaff  hausen,  they  again  resided 
with  the  dear  family  of  the  Rirchhofers.  There 
was  here  also  much  to  do,  but  at  the  same  time 
mental  uneasiness  and  sorrow;  for  on  Sundav, 
the  31st  of  October,  in  the  afternoon,  the  French 
again  entered  the  place. 

On  Monday,  the  1st  of  November,  they  left 
beloved  Switzerland;  but  as  a  blind  merchant 
of  Ebingen  had  sent  an  express  to  Schaphausen, 
they  were  ohlis^d  to  make  a  considerable  cir- 
cuit by  way  of  Müsskirch  and  the  Swabian  Alp; 


from  Ebingen  they  were  sent  for  to  Balingen, 
where  there  was  also  much  to  do;  and  from 
thence  they  rode  to  Stuttgard,  where  they  en- 
joyed a  blissful  abode  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Von 
Seckendorf,  and  where  Stilling  was  also  ena- 
bled to  be  of  service  to  many  afflicted  people. 

Here  he  found,  to  his  great  joy,  the  Moravian 
Unity-elder  Goldmann,  with  whom  he  entered 
into  a  warm  and  fraternal  connexion. 

From  Stuttgard  they  were  again  obliged  to 
make  a  large  and  tedious  circuit  through  the 
Black  Forest  to  Calw,  where  Stilling  found  the 
pious  and  Rev.  Mr.  Havlin  of  New  Bulach, 
with  his  excellent  spouse  and  daughter,  who 
were  all  three  already  known  to  him  by  letter. 
Here  also  a  circle  of  worthy  people  collected 
about  the  travellers,  in  the  house  of  the  pious 
book-keeper  Schille.  From  thence  they  travel- 
led, on  Tuesday,  the  9th  of  November,  to  Carls- 
ruhe. iL  was  at  the  desire  of  the  Margravine 
that  Stilling  made  this  circuit,  because  there 
were  several  blind  persons  there,  who  required 
his  aid.  The  Elector  repeated  his  promise ;  and 
on  Friday,  the  12th  of  November,  they  com- 
menced their  journey  home,  by  way  of  Manheim 
and  Frankfort:  in  the  latter  place,  and  at  Vilbel, 
three  blind  persons  were  couched;  and  on  Tues- 
day, the  16th  of  November,  they  again  arrived 
well  and  happy  in  Marburg. 

The  first  Swiss  journey  solved  the  first  prob- 
lem in  Stilling's  life — the  payment  of  his  debts; 
and  the  second  solved  the  second — Stilling's 
future  sphere  of  action. 

What  the  exalted  Governor  of  the  world  be- 
gins He  accomplishes,  in  small  things  as  well 
as  in  great — in  the  cottage  of  the  peasant  as  in 
the  court  of  the  monarch.  He  forgets  the  ant 
as  little  as  the  greatest  potentate.  Nothing 
proves  unsuccessful  with  Him,  and  nothing 
stops  short  with  Him.  Providence  proceeds 
uninterrupted  on  its  exalted  path. 

Brother  Coing  married,  in  the  spring  of  1802, 
an  excellent  lady,  who  is  worthy  of  him.  Still- 
ing, Eliza,  sister  Maria,  and  Jacob,  set  out  in 
order  to  be  present  at  the  marriage,  which  was 
to  be  celebrated  at  Homberg  in  Lower  Hessia, 
in  the  house  of  the  worthy  widow  of  the  Metro- 
politan Wiskemann,  the  mother  of  the  bride. 
Now  there  lives  in  Cassel  a  noble-minded,  pi- 
ously-disposed, and  affluent  individual,  Coun- 
sellor Enyeim,  who  was  a  widower,  and  whose 
two  amiable  children  were  married;  he  therefore 
lived  alone,  with  a  footman  and  a  cook;  and 
was  again  in  want  of  a  pious  and  faithful 
spouse,  who  might  accompany  him  in  his  pil- 
grimage through  life. 

A  brother  of  this  worthy  man  is  preacher  at 
Homberg,  and  likewise  a  very  amiable  charac- 
ter; and  having  seen  and  observed  sister  Maria, 
considered  that  she  would  make  his  brother  in 
Cassel  happy.  After  the  observance  of  the  due 
precautionary  measures  and  rules  of  decorum, 
the  match  was  concluded;  and  Maria,  the  noble, 
gentle,  good,  and  pious  soul,  has  obtained  a  hus- 
band such  as  suits  her  exactly;  she  is  as  happy 
as  a  person  can  be  here  below. 

Thus  the  blessing  of  the  elder  Coings  rests 
upon  these  four  children;  they  are  all  happily 
and  blissfully  married;  for  brother  Coing  has 
obtained  a  consort  such  as  the  Lord  gives  to  the 
man  whom  he  loves;  Amalia  also  lives  happily 
with  Stilling's  virtuous  son.  Eliza  treads  the 
most  painful  and  hardest  path,  at  Stilling's  side ; 
however,  besides  father  Coing's  blessing,  her 
father  Wilhelm  will  also  supplicate  peculiar 
grace  for  her  from  the  Lord. 


164 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


The  year  1802  was  terminated  by  an  agree- 
able visit;  Selling's  next  relative,  and  the  inti- 
mate friend  of  his  youth  from  the  cradle,  the 
chief  surveyor  of  the  mines  at  Dillenburg,  paid 
him  a  visit  of  some  days.  He  is  Johann  Sell- 
ing's second  son,  and  a  man  of  integrity  and 
ability.  Both  renewed  their  fraternal  bond,  and 
parted  with  regret. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1803,  a  circum- 
stance occurred  that  had  an  important  influence 
upon  Stil  ling's  fate.  An  edict  from  Cassel  ar- 
rived at  the  Marburg  University,  to  the  effect 
that  no  author  should  send  his  compositions  to  the 
press,  until  they  had  been  examined  by  the  pio-rector 
and  dean  of  the  faculty  to  whose  department  the 
treatise  belonged. 

This  limitation  of  the  liberty  of  the  press, 
which  had  no  reference  to  the  whole  country,  or 
to  all  the  schools  of  learning,  or  the  learned  in 
Hessia  generally,  but  solely  to  Marburg,  uncom- 
monly grieved  all  the  professors  there,  who  were 
not  in  the  least  conscious  of  any  thing  wrong; 
for,  in  fact,  none  but  professors,  who  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  difficult  collegiate  relations, 
can  have  an  idea  how  greatly  an  honest  man  is 
exposed  to  all  possible  raillery  when  two  of  his 
colleagues  possess  the  right  to  examine  his  works. 

Stilling  reflected  awhile,  and  probably  every 
Marburg  professor  did  the  same,  upon  what 
could  possibly  have  occasioned  this  severe  ordi- 
nance.   There  was  now  nothing  published  by  a 
Marburg  author,  except  the  usual  academical 
writings,  programmes,  dissertations,  &c.,  but 
the  "  Grey  Man,"  by  Stilling,  and  the  Theologi- 
cal Annals  by  Wacheler;  one  of  these  two, 
therefore,  must  probably  have  become  suspect- 
ed.   Stilling  reflected  over  the  last  number  of 
the  "Grey  Man,"  and  found  nothing  that  was 
in  the  least  objectionable ;  he  could  not,  there- 
fore, possibly  imagine  that  such  an  orthodox 
work,  which  has  for  its  object  piety,  the  general 
tranquillity  and  safety,  and  the  maintaining 
of  obedience  and  the  affection  of  the  subjects 
towards  their  rulers,  had  given  rise  to  a  law  so 
grievous  to  the  University.    In  order,  however, 
to  obtain  a  certainty  in  the  matter,  he  wrote  a 
very  polite  and 'cordial  letter  to  a  certain  gentle- 
man in  Cassel,  whom  he  had  never  injured  in 
the  slightest  degree,  and  modestly  inquired  the 
cause  of  the  severe  edict  concerning  the  censor- 
ship.   But  how  was  he  alarmed  on  receiving, 
in  a  rather  satirical  and  ungracious  reply,  the 
news  that  the  "  Grey  Man"  had  caused  the  cen- 
sor-edict.   By  degrees  this  became  generally 
known  ;  and  any  one  may  easily  imagine  how 
Stilling  must  have  felt  when  he  reflected  that 
he  had  given  occasion  for  the  imposition  of  so 
heavy  a  burden  upon  the  University.    He  had 
now  at  once  finished  with  Marburg  and  Hesse ; 
and  the  time  seemed  tedious  to  him,  till  the  Lord 
should  completely  decide  his  fate.    I  scarcely 
need  mention  that  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse  was 
entirely  innocent  of  this  edict;  for  how  can 
a  ruler  read  and  examine  every  work  ?— he  must 
commit  these  and  many  other  things  to  be  de- 
cided by  men  of  experience  in  such  matters.  I 
appeal  to  all  the  readers  of  the  "  Grey  Man," 
and  if  a  single  passage  can  be  shown  which  is 
opposed  to  the  imperial  law  of  censorship,  I  will 
confess  I  have  been  in  error. 

Ought  not  a  hint  t0  have  been  given  Stilling 
to  cease  publishing  the  "  Grey  Man  1"  But,  in- 
stead of  this,  to  make  him  a  stumbling-block  to 
all  his  colleagues  and  the  whole  University,  was 
very  hard  for  a  man  who  had  served  his  prince  | 
tnd  the  state  with  all  fidelity  for  sixteen  years. 


In  fact,  Stilling  could  now  remain  no  longer 
in  Hessia ;  and  how  fortunate  it  was  that,  shortly 
before,  a  pleasing  prospect  had  been  unfolded  to 
him  at  Carlsruhe.  He  openly  declared,  as  well 
as  in  his  protest,  which  at  his  request  was  an- 
nexed to  the  memorial  of  the  University  to  the 
Elector,  that  if  his  Highness  would  relieve  the 
University  from  the  censorial  edict,  he  alone 
would  submit  himself  to  it.  But  this  proved 
of  no  avail;  the  law,  once  given,  continued  in 
force. 

The  Elector  had  otherwise  always  shown 
Stilling  much  favor,  for  which  he  will  thank 
him  in  eternity;  and  his  respectful  attachment 
to  this  prince,  who  may  be  called  great  in  so 
many  respects,  will  never  be  extinguished. 

During  these  Easter  holidays,  another  im- 
portant and  remarkable  journey  was  undertaken. 
At  Herrnhut,  in  Upper  Lusatia,  and  the  neigh- 
borhood, there  were  many  blind  people,  and 
such  as  were  diseased  in  the  eye,  who  desired 
Sailing's  aid.  His  dear  and  faithful  correspond- 
ent, Erxleben,  therefore  wrote  to  him  to  come, 
and  that  the  expenses  of  the  journey  were  al- 
ready provided  for.  Stilling  and  Eliza  conse- 
quently prepared  themselves  for  another  long 
journey ;  for  Herrnhut  is  fifiy-nine  German  miles 
distant  from  Marburg. 

On  Friday,  the  25th  of  March,  they  set  out 
from  Marburg.  On  account  of  the  badness  of 
the  roads  in  Thuringia,  they  resolved  to  go  by 
way  of  Eisenach.  Stilling  here  saw,  for  the  first 
time,  a  gentleman  who  had  been  many  years  his 
friend,  the  treasury-director,  Von  Göchhausen ; 
this  worthy  man  was  then  ill,  but  he  soon  be- 
gan to  amend.  They  did  not  stop  on  the  way, 
but  travelled  through  Gotha,  Erfurth,  Weimar, 
Naumburg,  Weissenfels,  Leipzig,  and  Würzen, 
where  they  spent  a  few  hours  very  agreeably 
with  their  Christian  friend,  Justiciary  Ritcher, 
with  whom,  and  his  daughter  Augusta,  Stilling 
carries  on  an  edifying  correspondence,  and  then 
proceeded  to  Meissen  and  Dresden.  They  passed 
the  night  there  at  the  Golden  Angel,  and  found 
their  friend  Von  Cuningham  likewise  ill.  Still- 
ing paid  a  visit  the  same  evening  to  the  vener- 
able minister,  Von  Burgsdorf,  and  was  received 
like  a  Christian  friend. 

On  Friday,  the  first  of  April,  they  travelled 
into  Lusatia,  and  arrived  in  the  afternoon  at 
Kleinwelke,  a  beautiful  Moravian  settlement. 
They  found  their  friend  the  Rev.  Mr.  Nietschke 
in  profound  grief ;  he  had  lost  his  excellent  con- 
sort a  fortnight  before,  for  this  life.  Stilling 
wept  with  him;  for  this  is  the  best  consolation 
which  can  be  afforded  to  one  who,  like  Nietschke, 
can  have  recourse  to  every  source  of  consola- 
tion. Nature  demands  her  rights;  the  outward 
man  mourns,  whilst  the  inward  is  resigned  to 
God. 

They  were  present,  in  the  evening,  at  the  sing- 
ing, or  the  commencement  of  the  celebration  of 
the  passion-week.  They  formed  several  agree- 
able acquaintances  in  this  place,  and  Stilling 
looked  at  a  few  blind  people,  on  whom  he  in- 
tended to  operate  on  his  return. 

On  Saturday,  the  second  of  April,  they  trav- 
elled in  the  morning  from  Kleinwelke,  through 
Budissin  and  Lobau,  to  Herrnhut.  This  place 
lies  on  an  elevated  level,  between  two  hills,  the 
one  to  the  north,  the  other  towards  the  south ;  the 
former  is  called  the  Gutberg,  and  the  latter  the 
Heinrichsberg,  on  each  of  which  stands  a  pavil- 
ion, from  whence  the  prospect  is  extremely  beau- 
tiful.   At  about  five  leagues'  distance,  towards 


STILLING-S  YEA 


RS  OF  TUITION. 


165 


the  east,  the  majestic  Sitesian  Giant  Hills  are 
seen,  and  towards  the  south  is  a  distant  prospect 
of  Bohemia. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  how  cordially  and 
lovingly  Stilling  and  Eliza  were  received  at  this 
extremely  beautiful  and  agreeable  place,  and 
how  much  enjoyment  they  experienced  there. 
I  am  equally  unable  to  recount  the  history  of 
their  ten  days'  residence,  tor  it  would  increase 
the  size  of  this  volume  too  much ;  besides  which. 
Stilling  was  seriously  requested  by  the  Elders 
not  to  say  or  write  much  to  the  praise  of  the  Mora- 
vian Church,  since  it  prospered  better  under  oppres- 
sion, contempt,  and  oblivion,  than  when  it  was  com- 
mended. 

Erxleben  and  Goldmann  were  particularly 
glad  of  their  arrival,  the  first  as  correspondent, 
and  the  second  from  personal  acquaintance  at 
Stuttgard.  No  one  will  take  it  amiss  that  I  do 
not  on  this  occasion  mention  the  names  of  any 
other  friends.  How  could  I  name  them  all  1 
And  if  I  did  not  do  that,  it  might  pain  him  who 
was  omitted. 

Were  I  even  only  to  mention  the  many  per- 
sons of  rank  and  nobility  with  whom  Stilling  and 
Eliza  entered  into  a  fraternal  alliance  here,  it 
would  again  grieve  a  number  of  excellent  souls 
of  the  middle  class,  and  that  justly;  for  in  the 
connection  existing  at  Herrnhut  all  are  nearly 
allied  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  rank  is  no  longe'r 
of  any  value,  but  the  new  creature,  which  is 
born  of  water  and  the  Spirit.  He,  however,  who 
wishes  to  know  more  of  Herrnhut  and  its  reli- 
gious and  political  constitution,  has  onlv  to  read 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Frohberger's  letters  on  Herrnhut, 
where  he  will  find  every  thing  minutely  de- 
scribed. 

The  celebration  of  the  passion- week  is  heart- 
cheering  and  heavenlv  in  all  the  Moravian  set- 
tlements, but  especially  at  Herrnhut.  Stilling 
and  Eliza  diligently  and  devoutly  attended  all 
the  services  that  are  devoted  to  it.  The  vener- 
able bishops  and  elders  allowed  them  also  to 
communicate  with  the  church  on  the  evening  of 
Holy  Thursday.  This  communion  is  what  it 
properly  ought  to  be — a  solemn  uniting  with 
Christ  the  Head,  and  with  all  his  members  of 
every  religious  denomination.  "What  a  piously- 
disposed  heart  experiences  on  this  occasion, 
cannot  be  described — it  must  be  experienced. 
Stilling  felt  at  that  time  as  if  he  were  conse- 
crated to 'his  new  and  future  occupation;  and 
for  such  a  consecration,  certainly  no  place  was 
better  fitted  than  that  in  which  Jesus  Christ  and 
his  religion  are  confessed  and  taught,  perhaps 
the  most  clearly  and  purely  in  the  whole  world  ; 
than  that  place  where,  in  proportion  to  the  pop- 
ulation generally,  certainly  the  greatest  number 
of  true  Christians  dwell. 

I  must  however  notice,  in  particular,  two  in- 
dividuals at  Herrnhut,  the  lord  of  the  manor, 
Baron  Watteville,  and  his  consort,  born  Count- 
ess  of  Zinzendorf.  This  worthy  lady  much 
resembles  her  late  father,  and  overflows  in 
a  similar  manner  with  love  to  God  and  man ; 
her  husband  is  also  a  worthy  and  religious  man, 
and  both  of  them  showed  Stilling  and  Eliza 
much  friendship. 

Stilling  operated  upon  several  persons  at 
Herrnhut,  and  administered  help  and  advice  to 
some  hundreds,  for  the  concourse  of  people  re- 
quiring assistance  was  extremely  great. 

On  Easter  Tuesday,  the  12th  of  April,  they  set 
out  from  Herrnhut  to  Klein  welke,  amidst  the 
blessings  of  many  worthy  people.    Here  a  few 


more  were  couched ;  and  the  next  day  they  rode 
to  Dresden,  where  they  continued  till  Saturday, 
and  then  returned  by  way  of  Waldheim,  Coldiz, 
Grimma,  and  Würzen,  to  Leipzig.  The  reason 
of  this  circuitous  route  was,  because  there  were 
some  blind  people  in  the  poorhouse  at  Waldheim, 
whom  the  kind  father  of  the  poor,  the  minister 
Von  Burgsdorf,  desired  to  see  restored  to  sight; 
they  had  also  a  friendly  invitation  from  his  chil- 
dren, the  Von  Hopfgartens  in  Coldiz.  Stilling 
there  performed  the  last  cataract-operation  on 
this  journey.  I  regret  that  I  cannot,  and  dare 
not,  loudly  and  publicly  thank  all  the  dear  and 
excellent  people  who  manifested  such  unspeak- 
able kindness  to  Stilling  and  Eliza,  and  with 
whom  they  united  themselves  for  time  and  eter- 
nity. Every  one,  however,  will  see  that  this 
cannot  be  done,  for  many  important  reasons ;  we 
will  leave  it  for  the  next  world. 

In  the  afternoon  of  Thursday,  the  21st,  they 
set  off  from  Leipzig,  and  passed  the  night  at 
Weissenfels;  the  following  day  they  travelled 
to  Weimar,  and  as  they  had  a  commission  from 
the  settlement  of  Herrnhut  to  Neu-Dietendorf, 
they  made  a  little  circuit  thither  from  Erfurth, 
spent  the  Sunday  there,  and  then  travelled  on 
Monday,  by  way  of  Gotha,  to  Eisenach.  In 
Gotha,  Stilling  waited  upon  the  duke,  with  whom 
he  had  a  short  and  interesting  conference. 

At  Eisenach  they  found  their  dear  friend  Von 
Gochhausen  better  again  ;  with  him,  his  brother 
and  sister,  and  the  worthy  Doctor  Müller,  they 
spent  a  pleasant  evening,  and  then  travelled,  on 
Tuesday,  the  26th  of  April,  to  Cassel.  Here 
they  rested  till  Monday,  the  2nd  of  May.  Brother 
Coing  came  also  thither  with  his  lady,  and  the 
brothers  and  sisters  spent  the  few  days  very 
pleasantly  together.  Brother  Coing  then  returned 
home  with  his  Julia,  and  Stilling  and  Eliza,  on 
the  day  above-mentioned,  to  Marburg. 

It  is  a  matter  of  notoriety  that  the  Landgrave 
of  Hesse  Cassel  accepted  the  Electoral  dignity 
this  spring,  for  which  purpose  great  solemnities 
were  prepared.  In  the  meantime,  early  in  the 
morning  of  Friday,  the  20th  of  May,  Stilling  re- 
ceived a  letter  by  a  courier  from  Cassel,  in  which 
he  was  requested  to  take  post  immediately  and 
go  thither,  for  Prince  Charles  of  Hesse  was  there 
from  Denmark;  he  had  unexpectedly  surprised 
his  brother,  and  wished  now  to  speak  with  Still- 
ing also.  The  latter  immediately  ordered  post- 
horses,  Eliza  also  got  ready,  and  at  half-past  five 
they  were  both  seated  in  their  carriage;  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening  they  arrived  at  their 
brother  and  sister  Enyeim's  in  Cassel.  In  the 
course  of  the  two  following  days  Stilling  spent 
some  extremely  pleasant  hours  with  the  prince; 
affairs  of  the  greatest  importance  concerning  the 
kingdom  of  God  were  discussed.  Prince  Charles 
is  a  true  Christian ;  he  cleaves  with  the  highest 
degree  of  affection  and  adoration  to  the  Redeem- 
er; he  lives  and  dies  for  him;  at  the  same  time 
he  possesses  singular  and  extraordinary  knowl- 
edge and  acquirements,  which  are  by  no  means 
for  every  one,  and  which  can  in  no  wise  be  men- 
tioned here.  After  taking  a  Christian  and  affec- 
tionate leave  of  this  great  and  enlightened  prince, 
Stilling  and  Eliza  set  off  again  from  Cassel  on 
Monday,  the  23d  of  May,  and  arrived  in  the 
evening  at  Marburg. 

Stilling's  lectures  were  very  ill  attended  this 
summer.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  new  prospect 
afforded  him  the  previous  autumn  at  Carlsruhe, 
he  would  have  been  inconsolable.  The  Whit- 
suntide vacation  now  approached.    Stilling  and 


166 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


Eliza  had  long  purposed  visiting  their  friends  at 
Wittgenstein,  during  these  holidays ;  and  as 
Stilling's  birth-place  is  only  five  leagues  distant 
from  that  place,  they  intended  to  make  a  pilgrim- 
age together  to  Tiefenbach  and  Florenburg,  and 
visit  all  the  places  wnich  Stilling's  childhood  and 
youthful  years  had  rendered  remarkable — at  least 
to  them.  Stilling  rejoiced  much  in  the  expect- 
ation of  once  more  visiting  these  places,  arm-in- 
arm with  his  dear  Eliza,  which  he  had  not  seen 
for  thirty-seven  or  thirty-eight  years.  A  thrill- 
ing sensation  pervaded  him  when  these  ideas 
presented  themselves  to  his  mind. 

For  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose,  they 
both  set  off  for  Wittgenstein,  which  is  seven 
leagues  distant  from  Marburg,  on  Saturday,  the 
28th  of  May,  the  day  before  Whitsunday,  ac- 
companied by  their  son  Frederick,  now  eight 
years  old,  to  whom  they  intended  to  show  his  fa- 
ther's birth-place.  The  chancery-director,  Hom- 
bergk  of  Vach,  is  a  native  of  Marburg,  and  not 
only  a  near  relative  of  Eliza,  but  he  and  his  con- 
sort are  also  Stilling  and  Eliza's  intimate  friends, 
and  are  excellent  characters.  Their  abode  with 
these  good  people  was  very  beneficial;  and  all 
the  friends  in  Wittgenstein  did  their  best  to  re- 
fresh and  gratify  the  two  visitors. 

Tuesday  in  Whitsuntide  was  the  day  on  which 
the  journey  to  Stilling's  birth-place  was  to  have 
been  undertaken,  and  Hombergk  with  his  lady 
wished  to  accompany  them.  Stilling,  however, 
was  seized  with  an  inexplicable  terror,  which 
increased  as  the  day  approached,  and  rendered 
the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose  impractica- 
ble. In  proportion  as  he  had  previously  rejoiced 
at  the  idea  of  visiting  the  scene  of  his  youthful 
days,  so  much  did  he  now  shudder  at  it;  he  felt 
just  as  if  great  dangers  awaited  him  there.  God 
alone  knows  the  cause  and  reason  of  this  very 
singular  phenomenon  ;  it  was  not  such  an  anx- 
itey  as  that  which  he  felt  on  the  Brunswick  jour- 
ney, but  it  was  perhaps  the  warning  of  his 
guardian  angel,  which  struggled  with  his  long- 
ing to  see  his  native  place,  and  this  struggle 
caused  suffering.  The  former  was  like  Job's, 
the  latter  like  Jacob's  conflict.  The  journey 
was  therefore  not  undertaken;  his  dear  friends 
respected  his  terror,  and  gave  way. 

Whilst  at  Wittgenstein,  the  remarkable  period 
at  length  arrived  in  which  Stilling,  in  the  sixty- 
third  year  of  his  age,  learnt  the  decision  of  his 
fate.  He  received  a  letter  from  his  son  at  Mar- 
burg, in  which  the  latter  communicated  to  him 
the  joyful  intelligence  that  the  Elector  of  Baden 
had  appointed  him  Counsellor  of  Justice  to  the 
Supreme  Electoral  Court  at  Manheim,  with  a 
regular  income  in  money  and  perquisites;  this 
was  a  vocation  which  exceeded  the  expectations 
of  both;  there  was  also  annexed  a  question  to 
Stilling  in  particular,  whether  for  the  present,  and 
until  his  income  could  be  increased,  he  would  come 
for  twelve  hundred  guilders  yearly  ? 

Joy  at  the  provision  lor  the  long-tried  Jacob, 
and  the  near  and  certain  prospect  of  escaping 
from  a  situation  which  had  now  become  intoler- 
able, filled  Stilling  and  Eliza  with  delight  and 
profound  serenity;  they  offered  thanks  to  God 
with  tears,  and  hastened  home,  because  Jacob 
had  at  the  same  time  received  orders  to  come  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  enter  upon  his  office.  They 
therefore  left  Wittgenstein  on  Friday,  the  third 
of  June,  and  arrived  in  the  afternoon  at  Marburg. 

All  hands  were  now  put  into  activity  to  accel- 
erate Jacob  and  Amalia's  removal  to  Manheim. 
But  a  violent  conflict  between  faith  and  reason 
How  arose  in  Stilling's  soul. 


If  Stilling's  situation  at  this  time  is  considered 
on  rational  and  economical  grounds,  it  was  cer- 
tainly a  matter  for  hesitation,  to  exchange  a 
place  producing  twelve  hundred  dollars  in  gold 
for  one  of  twelve  hundred  guilders  currency, 
particularly  as  nothing  remained  over  from  the 
large  salary  first-mentioned;  there  were  even 
reasons  which  might  have  removed  Stilling's 
difficulties,  and  decided  him  to  remain  at  Mar- 
burg, and  retain  his  place;  for  he  could  proceed 
quietly  as  before,  travel  during  the  vacations, 
and  in  the  interval  faithfully  discharge  the  duties 
of  his  office :  if  he  had  few  hearers,  or  none  at 
all,  it  was  not  his  fault;  and  with  respect  to  the 
impulse  he  felt  to  be  active  in  the  cause  of  reli- 
gion, he  might  act  as  he  had  hitherto  done,  and 
if  he  could  not  force  every  thing  to  be  as  he 
wished,  God  does  not  require  of  us  more  than 
we  are  able  to  perform ;  the  stone  is  left  lying 
which  cannot  be  lifted,  &c. 

But  Stilling's  conscience,  which  has  been  rec- 
tified by  many  trials  cf  faith  and  much  experi- 
ence in  suffering,  and  purified  from  all  sophistry 
by  being  exercised  for  many  years  in  the  school 
of  grace,  judged  very  differently.  According  to 
his  inmost  conviction,  it  was  imperative  upon 
him  to  resign  his  office  and  return  his  salary 
into  the  hands  of  his  prince,  when  he  found  he 
could  no  longer  earn  it  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
own  conscience.  This  position  admits  of  no 
limitation,  and  he  that  thinks  otherwise  thinks 
incorrectly.  Stilling  could  now  do  this  boldly, 
since  a  way  was  shown  him  by  which  he  could 
attain  his  object  as  soon  as  he  entered  upon  it. 
He  had  learnt  in  the  last  few  years,  that  the 
Lord  has  means  enough  of  helping  him  out  of 
his  distresses  without  the  Marburg  stipend;  for 
his  debts  were  liquidated,  not  by  this,  but  with 
Swiss  money,  and  it  was  with  the  latter,  and  not 
with  the  former,  that  the  expenses  of  the  removal 
and  the  new  arrangements  would  be  covered.  It 
is,  further,  the  unconditional  duty  of  the  true 
Christian,  as  soon  as  the  choice  is  left  him  of 
various  vocations,  to  choose  that  which  is  the 
most  useful  to  mankind,  and  which  operates  the 
most  beneficially,  without  any  reference  to  a 
smaller  income,  or  even  none  at  all ;  for  as  soon 
as  the.  individual  follows  this  maxim  he  enters 
into  the  immediate  service  of  the  Father  and 
Ruler  of  all  men,  and  it  follows  of  course  that 
He  rewards  his  servants,  and  gives  them  what 
they  need.  Stilling  therefore  felt  himself  under 
weighty  obligations  to  accept  the  call ;  for  that 
he  was  of  infinitely  greater  service  by  his  ocu- 
listic  practice,  and  especially  by  his  writings, 
than  by  his  professorship,  was  beyond  a  doubt, 
and  those  very  occupations  constituted  his  whole 
vocation  in  the  event  of  his  accepting  the  Baden 
appointment.  It  was  therefore  by  all  means  his 
duty  to  accept  the  call,  particularly  as  in  process 
of  time  an  increase  of  stipend  was  promised  by 
a  prince  who  faithfully  performs  what  he  prom- 
ises. 

There  came  to  his  mind,  in  addition  to  all 
these  motives,  the  whole  of  Stilling's  guidance, 
from  the  very  cradle.  He  must  be  very  blind, 
who  cannot  perceive  that  this  had  systematically 
pointed  out  the  way  to  the  door  which  the  Elector 
of  Baden  now  opened.  If  Stilling  had  purposed 
waiting  for  some  other  opportunity,  in  which 
more  salary  would  be  promised  him,  it  would 
have  been,  in  his  situation,  and  with  the  trials 
of  faith  which  he  had  experienced,  a  highly  cul- 
pable mistrust ;  and  as  Providence  had  undoubt- 
edly prepared  and  provided'  the  vocation,  it 


STILLING'S  YEARS  OF  TUITION. 


1G7 


would  have  been  also  a  heinous  sin  of  disobe- 
dience if  he  had  not  accepted  it.  And,  then,  this 
appointment  was  so  strange  and  so  singular  in 
its  kind,  that  another  such  could  not  possibly  be 
expected;  and,  finally,  the  true  and  enlightened 
Christian  easily  perceives  that  Selling's  great 
Leader  had  no  other  object  in  it  than  to  retain 
him  and  his  Eliza  continually  in  the  exercise  of 
faith,  and  to  place  them  in  such  a  situation  that 
their  eyes  must  ever  be  directed  to  his  gracious 
hand,  and  wait  upon  Him.  All  these  convic- 
tions decided  both  to  accept  the  call  in  reliance 
on  Divine  direction ;  but  in  order  to  do  every 
thing  that  could  be  done  to  keep  himself  free 
from  blame,  Stilling  wrote  to  the  Elector  of  Ba- 
-den,  requesting  an  addition,  if  possible,  in  the 
"way  pi'  residence,  &c,  on  which  the  vocation 
came,  and  in  it  this  addition  was  promised  him 
as  soon  as  any  thing  of  the  kind  should  be  va- 
cant. 

It  was  now,  dear  readers,  that  the  great  ques- 
Jon  respecting  Stilling's  real  and  final  destiny 
was  decided,  and  the  second  great  problem  of 
his  wonderful  guidance  solved.  It  can  no  long- 
er be  said,  that  his  faith  and  confidence  in  Jesus 
Christ  and  in  his  government  of  the  world,  was 
enthusiasm  or  superstition  ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
Redeemer  has  gloriously  and  obviously  justified 
himself  and  the  faith  of  his  servant;  and  as  a 
proof  that  Stilling's  decision  was  well-pleasing 
to  Him,  He  gave  him  the  following  distinguish- 
ed sign  of  his  gracious  approbation. 

More  than  fifty  German  miles  from  Marburg 
there  lives  a  lady,  who  was  utterly  ignorant  of 
Stilling's  present  situation  and  necessities,  but 
to  whom  he  was  known  by  his  writings.  This 
person  felt  herself  inwardly  impelled  to  send 
Stilling  twenty  louis-d'ors.  She  followed  this 
impulse  in  simplicity  and  faith;  packed  up  the 
twenty  louis-d'ors,  and  wrote  him  at  the  same 
time,  that  she  felt  herself  impelled  to  send  him  the 
money ;  he  would  know  well  enough  how  to  apply 
it,  and  far  what  purpose.  By  these  hundred  and 
eighty  guilders,  what  still  remained  over  from 
the  Swiss  journey  was  increased,  and  thus  the 
removal  from  Marburg  and  the  establishment  of 
a  new  household  in  a  strange  place  was  facili- 
tated. I  imagine,  however,  that  something  yet 
awaits  Stilling,  which  will  develope  the  reason 
why  this  money  was  sent  him. 

What  a  manifest  guidance  of  God,  when  clear- 
sightedly and  impartially  considered  !  If  one 
ef  all  the  drawings  of  Providence  hitherto  de- 
scribed had  been  wanting,  it  would  not  have 
been  possible  to  have  accepted  this  appoint- 
ment ;— if  Stilling  had  obtained  in  Switzerland 
only  the  amount  of  his  debts  and  his  travelling 
expenses,  it  would  have  been  a  glorious  and 
visible  favor  from  God;  but  then  he  must  have 
continued  in  Marburg,  because  the  means  would 
have  been  wanting  for  his  removal  and  estab- 
lishment in  a  strange  place ;  for  he  retained  no 
surplus  of  all  his  income  at  Marburg. 

The  Lord's  name  be  praised !  He  is  still  the 
same  God  as  He  has  revealed  himself  in  the  Bible. 
Yes,  He  is  justly  termed,  /  am,  and  was,  and 
shall  be,  ever  the  same.  Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yes- 
terday, to-day,  and  for  ever. 

On  the  25th  of  June,  Jacob  and  Amalia  took 
their  departure,  amidst  the  tears  of  all  their 
friends  and  with  the  heartiest  blessings  of  their 
parents,  for  Manheim  ;  and  Stilling  and  Eliza 
now  prepared  for  their  removal  to  Heidelberg, 
which  place  the  Elector  had  recommended  to  j 
them  for  their  future  residence  ;  for  though  they  1 


are  at  liberty  to  reside  in  any  part  of  the  Baden 
territories  they  please,  because  Stilling  has  no 
official  situation,  but  devotes  himself  solely  to 
the  great  and  primary  impulse  which  has  labor- 
ed to  attain  its  development  in  him  from  his 
youth  up — that  is,  to  be  active  as  a  witness  of 
the  truth  for  Jesus  Christ  and  his  kingdom,  and 
to  serve  his  neighbour  by  his  beneficial  ophthal- 
mic cures  ;  notwithstanding  all  this,  he  was  un- 
der the  greatest  obligation  to  regard  the  advice 
of  the  Elector  as  a  command  ;  which  was  also 
easily  obeyed,  because  Stilling  knew  no  place 
more  convenient  or  agreeable,  and  because  he 
was  already  known  there,  having  lived  in  that 
city  before. 

He  now  applied  to  the  Elector  of  Hesse  for 
his  dismission,  and  obtained  it.  At  his  depar- 
ture, Stilling  wrote  once  more  to  him,  and  thank- 
ed him  for  all  the  favors  and  benefits  he  had 
hitherto  enjoyed,  and  entreated  the  continuance 
of  his  kind  favor;  of  which  the  Elector  also  as- 
sured him  in  a  gracious  letter  from  his  own 
hand. 

It  cannot  be  described  what  a  melancholy  sen- 
sation Stilling's  departure  caused  throughout 
the  Hessian  dominions,  but  especially  at  Mar- 
burg; all  its  inhabitants  mourned,  and  on  his 
leaving,  on  Saturday,  the  10th  of  September, 
in  the  morning,  the  whole  neighborhood  wept. 
But  not  a  word  more  of  these  affecting  scenes. 
Stilling  and  Eliza's  hearts  were  deeply  wounded, 
particularly  on  passing  the  church-yard  where 
so  many  dear  friends  and  relatives  repose. 

It  follows,  of  course,  that  their  friend  Julia 
removed  with  them.  They  travelled  the  first 
day  to  their  children,  the  Schwarzes,  at  Mün- 
ster; there  they  spent  Sunday  and  Monday, 
which  latter  was  Stilling's  birth-day,  and  was 
celebrated  on  this  occasion  in  an  extremely  stri- 
king manner.  Schwarz  and  Julia  had  formed 
the  plan  of  it,  which  was  admirably  executed. 
I  have  omitted  recounting  any  of  the  birth-day 
solemnities  since  1791 ;  they  contained  too  much 
that  is  flattering  and  panegyrical,  and  to  describe 
all  this  would  be  disgusting. 

On  Tuesday,  the  13th  of  September,  they  took 
leave  of  their  children,  the  Schwarzes,  and  trav- 
elled to  Frankfort;  there  they  spent  Wednesday 
and  Thursday ;  on  Friday  they  rode  to  Heppen- 
heim, and  on  Saturday,  the  17th  of  September, 
they  entered  Heidelberg.  The  watch  ward  for 
the  day  was  striking;  it  stands  in  Exodus,  xv., 
17:  "  Thou  shalt  bring  them  in,  and  plant  them 
in  the  mountain  of  thine  inheritance,  in  the 
place,  O  Lord,  which  thou  hast  made  for  thee 
to  dwell  in;  in  the  sanctuary,  O  Lord,  which 
thy  hands  have  established."  I  suppose  I  need 
not  observe  that  the  mountain  of  the  inherit- 
ance of  Jehovah,  and  his  sanctuary,  must  not 
be  applied  to  Heidelberg;  but  Stilling's  idea 
of  the  mountain  of  Jehovah's  inheritance,  his 
dwelling,  and  his  sanctuary,  was,  the  spiritual 
Zion  and  the  mystic  temple  of  God,  in  which 
he  was  now  to  be  placed  as  a  servant,  and  in 
which  he  was  to  labor. 

Friend  Mieg  had  provided  a  handsome  dwell- 
ing; and  hisxlady  and  a  friend  of  hers,  had  made 
other  requisite  preparations.  There  dwells  Still- 
ing, with  his  Eliza,  Julia,  and  Caroline;  and 
with  the  three  children,  Frederick,  Amalia,  and 
Christina;  together  with  the  dear,  good,  and 
faithful  Maria,  and  a  maid-servant ;  and  now 
waits  further «upon  the  Lord  and  his  gracious 
guidance. 

How  gladly  would  I  here  have  openly  and 


168  HEINRICH 

publicly  thanked  certain  families  and  intimate 
and  cordial  friends  at  Marburg,  for  their  love 
and  friendship  !  But  tell  me,  my  beloved  friends, 
how  could  I  do  so,  without  grieving  some  one 
or  other,  whom  I  do  not  or  cannot  name  1  The 
whole  dear,  cordial  city  of  Marburg  is  my  friend, 


STILLING. 

and  I  am  its  friend  ;  in  this  relation  we  will  con- 
tinue towards  each  other  until  our  glorification  ; 
and  beyond  it  as  long  as  our  existence  lasts. 
You  ail  know  us,  and  we  you;  the  Lord  our 
God  knows  all  of  us.  Be  He  your  great  reward  ? 
Amen ! 


RETROSPECT  OF 

First  of  all,  I  very  heartily  request  all  my 
readers  to  peruse,  and  carefully  examine  these 
few  remaining  pages,  with  a  calm  and  impartial 
mind  ;  for  they  develope  the  real  point  of  view 
from  whence  Stilling's  whole  life,  as  displayed 
throughout  this  work,  must  be  estimated. 

That  I,  Johann  Heinrich  Jung,  Aulic  Coun- 
sellor, the  author  of  this  work,  am  myself  Hein- 
rich Stilling,  and  that  it  is  therefore  my  own 
history,  every  one  knows ;  my  incognito  is  there- 
fore no  longer  of  any  use  ;  I  lay  it  aside,  and 
speak  no  longer  in  Stilling's,  but  in  my  own 
person. 

The  first  and  principal  question  is,  whether 
my  whole  history,  as  I  have  related  it  in  "  Hein- 
rich Stilling's  Childhood,  Youth,  Wanderings, 
Domestic  Life,  and  Years  of  Tuition,"  be  really 
and  actually  true  ?  To  this  I  can  with  a  good 
conscience  answer  in  the  affirmative.  In  the 
history  of  my  "  Childhood,"  the  persons,  char- 
acters, and  the  narrative  itself,  are  written  and 
described  according  to  truth  ;  a  variety  of  em- 
bellishments, it  is  true,  are  introduced,  because 
they  were  requisite  for  my  object  at  the  time ; 
but  these  embellishments  decrease  in  such  a 
manner  that  few  appear  in  the  "Youthful 
Years,"  still  fewer  in  the  "Wanderings,"  and 
none  at  all  in  the  "Domestic  Life  ;"  only  the 
persons  and  places,  for  reasons  which  I  could 
not  avoid,  were  concealed  under  fabulous  names. 
In  the  last  part,  however,  "  Stilling's  Years  of 
Tuition,"  with  the  exception  of  Raschmann, 
and  a  certain  student,  I  have  called  every  place 
and  person  by  their  proper  names,  for  this  very 
important  reason — that  every  one  may  be  ena- 
bled to  examine  and  ascertain  whether  I  relate 
the  pure  and  unadorned  truth.  It  is  fully  worth 
the  while  for  the  reader  to  convince  himself  of 
this  ;  for  if  my  history  be  true  in  its  whole  ex- 
tent, results  arise  from  it  which  perhaps  few  of 
my  readers  would  suppose,  and  of  which  the 
majority  cannot  have  even  a  remote  presenti- 
ment. It  is,  therefore,  an  indispensable  duty 
for  me  to  develope  and  place  before  them  these 
results  and  consequences  conscientiously,  and 
with  rational  and  logical  correctness.  I  there- 
fore earnestly  beg  of  all  my  readers  to  examine 
most  minutely  and  strictly  all  that  follows. 

The  events  of  an  individual's  life,  from  his 
birth  to  his  death,  all  of  them  in  their  turn,  arise 
either. 

1.  From  blind  chance  ;  or, 

2.  From  a  divine  and  wisely-formed  plan,  in 
the  accomplishment  of  which  men  cooperate, 
either  as  beings  really  free,  or  else  mechanical- 
ly, like  physical  nature,  yet  in  such  a  manner 
as  seems  to  them  that  they  acted  freely.  This 
latter  dreadful  idea,  that  men  seem  only  free  to 
act,  whilst  in  reality  they  act  only  mechanical- 
ly, is  what  is  called  Fatalism.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  refute  this  awful  absurdity  ;  but  should 


STILLING'S  LIFE. 

it  be  required,  I  can  do  it,  thank  God !  incon- 
trovertibly. 

I  take  it  therefore  for  granted,  that  God  gov- 
erns the  world  with  infinite  wisdom ;  yet  in* 
such  a  manner  that  mankind  cooperate,  as  free 
agents  ;  for  this  reason  ;  because  fatalism  has 
no  influence  on  my  present  object. 

It  is  evident  from  the  meaning  of  the  expres- 
sion "  blind  chance,"  that  this  nonentity  cannot 
remotely  prepare,  from  premeditated  plans,  with 
vast  wisdom,  the  means  for  their  accomplish- 
ment, and  afterwards  powerfully  execute  them; 
consequently,  when  all  this  is  supremely  evi- 
dent, as  in  the  history  of  my  life,  it  would  be 
folly  to  think  of  ascribing  it  to  blind  chance  ; 
as,  in  the  events  of  each  individual's  life,  and 
therefore  in  mine  also,  an  immense  number  of 
other  individuals  cooperate  ;  and  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  all  these  cooperating  beings  can  be  un- 
der the  direction  of  a  blind  chance.  I  therefore 
establish  the  principle,  that  nothing  happens,  or 
can  happen,  by  mere  chance. 

That  a  person,  generally  speaking,  is  in  part 
master  of  his  own  fate,  and  has  usually  to  as- 
cribe his  happiness  for  the  most  part  to  himself, 
none  of  my  readers  will  doubt,  unless  he  be  a 
fatalist ;  but  with  such  a  one  I  do  not  come  into 
collision  here.  But  whether  I  have  cooperated  as 
to  the  manner  of  my  guidance,  and  whether  I  have 
in  the  smallest  degree,  intentionally,  contributed  to 
any  one  of  the  decisive  events  of  my  life,  is  the 
question  on  which  every  thing  here  depends  ;  for,  if 
I  can  prove  that  this  is  not  the  case,  results 
arise  from  it  of  a  very  comprehensive  nature, 
and  which  are  of  the  utmost  importance  for  our 
contemporaries. 

There  are  persons  who,  from  their  youth  up, 
experience  within  them  a  certain  impulse  ;  this 
they  apprehend  and  keep  in  view  till  their  death, 
and  they  apply  all  their  understanding  and  all 
their  powers  to  attain  the  object  to  which  this 
impulse  excites  them.  For  instance,  one  man 
has  an  invincible  inclination  and  a  primary 
impulse  to  mechanical  labors.  He  wrestles, 
strives,  labors,  and  invents,  until  he  produces 
works  of  art  which  astonish  the  beholder.  Now 
this  is  the  case  in  every  vocation,  and  with  all 
the  arts  and  sciences ;  for  such  aspiring  indi- 
viduals are  found  in  each  particular  depart- 
ment. They  are  called  great  men,  people  of 
great  minds,  great  geniuses,  &c.  But  many, 
notwithstanding  all  the  power  and  strength  of 
their  impulse,  and  all  their  pains  and  labor,  do 
not  prove  successful,  because  it  does  not  com 
port  with  the  mighty  plan  of  the  world's  govern- 
ment ;  whilst  others,  who  are  also  men  of  great 
talents,  and  are  the  cause  of  horrible  evils  in  the 
world,  succeed  in  attaining  their  object,  because 
their  actions,  with  the  consequences  arising 
from  them,  can  be  applied  to  good  purposes.  It 
is  therefore  evident,  and  indeed  very  certain, 


/ 


RETROSPECT  OF 

that  such  men  have  themselves  formed  and  ex- 
ecuted the  plan  of  their  lives,  at  least  for  the 
most  part,  and  that  their  impulse  was  natural 
to  them.  Let  the  reader  reflect  upon  the  lives 
of  many  great  and  eminent  good  and  wicked 
men,  and  then  he  will  no  longer  be  ahle  to  douht 
of  the  truth  of  my  assertion. 

The  great  and  principal  question,  therefore, 
now  really  is,  Am  I  such  a  man  1  Do  I  helong 
to  the  above-mentioned  class  of  remarkable  in- 
dividuals, who  have  for  the  most  part  been  the 
authors  of  their  own  destinies  1 

Let  us  examine  and  reply  to  this  question 
most  strictly  and  impartially ;  and  first  of  all, 
whether  I  really  possessed  such  a  powerful  im- 
pulse. Most  certainly !  I  possessed  it,  and 
have  it  still ;  it  is  to  labor  extensively  and  com- 
prehensively for  Jesus  Christ,  his  religion,  and  his 
kingdom;  but  it  must  be  well  observed,  that 
this  impulse  did  not  at  all  lie  in  my  natural 
character  ;  for  its  chief  feature  was,  on  the  con- 
trary, an  extensive  and  highly  frivolous  delight  in 
physical  and  mental  sensible  pleasures  ;  I  beg  that 
this  fundamental  part  of  my  character  be  on  no 
account  lost  sight  of.  I  received  the  first-men- 
tioned impulse  entirely  from  without,  and  that 
in  the  following  manner. 

The  early  decease  of  my  mother  laid  the  found- 
ation of  it.  My  Heavenly  Guide  began  with 
this,  in  the  second  year  of  my  age.  If  she  had 
continued  alive,  my  father  would  have  become, 
a  farmer,  and  I  should  early  have  been  obliged 
to  accompany  him  to  the  field  ;  I  should  have 
learned  to  read  and  write,  and  that  would  have 
been  all ;  my  head  and  my  heart  would  then 
have  been  filled  with  the  commonest  things,  and 
what  would  have  become  of  my  moral  charac- 
ter, God  only  knows.  But  my  mother  dying  ear- 
ly, my  father's  religious  character  was  stretched 
to  the  utmost,  and  took  its  direction  from  inter- 
course with  the  Mystics.  He  withdrew  with 
me  into  solitude,  for  which  his  trade  of  tailor 
was  well  adapted ;  and  in  accordance  with  his 
principles,  I  was  brought  up  entirely  separate 
from  the  world.  My  head  and  heart,  therefore, 
had  no  other  objects  to  hear,  see,  and  feel,  but 
religious  ones  ;  I  was  constantly  obliged  to  read 
the  histories  and  biographies  of  great,  pious,  and 
holy  men,  and  such  as  were  eminent  in  the 
kingdom  of  God,  to  which  was  also  added  the 
repeated  perusal  and  reperusal  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures.  In  a  word,  I  saw  and  heard  no- 
thing but  religion  and  Christianity,  and  men  wiio 
thence  became  pious  and  holy,  who  lived  and 
labored  for  the  Lord  and  his  kingdom,  and  had 
even  offered  up  their  blood  and  lives  for  Him. 
Now  it  is  well-known  that  the  first,  impressions 
upon  a  mind  still  entirely  void,  particularly  when 
they  are  unmingled,  strong,  and  of  many  years' 
duration,  become,  as  it  were,  indelibly  engraved 
upon  the  wrhole  being  of  the  individual ;  and  this 
was  also  the  case  with  me.  The  impulse  to  act 
extensively  for  Jesus  Christ,  his  religion,  and  his 
kingdom,  was  so  deeply  impressed  upon  my 
whole  being,  that  no  sufferings  nor  circumstan- 
ces, during  the  course  of  so  many  years,  were 
able  to  weaken  it ;  it  became,  on  the  contrary, 
more  and  more  powerful  and  invincible ;  and 
though  the  view  of  it  might  occasionally  be  ob- 
scured by  gloomy  prospects  for  a  shorter  or 
longer  period,  yet  it  presented  itself  to  my  sight 
so  much  the  more  clearly  afterwards.  That  I 
Y 


STILLING'S  LIFE.  169 

sought  and  cherished  this  impulse,  when  a  child, 
no  one  will  suppose ;  and  it  is  ridiculous  to 
imagine  that  this  was  my  father's  object.  He 
sought  to  make  me,  first  of  all,  a  pious  and  reli- 
gious man,  and  next,  an  able  schoolmaster ; 
and  as  this  vocation,  in  my  country,  cannot 
support  a  man  with  a  family,  he  wished  me  to 
learn  his  trade  besides,  ir  order  to  be  able  to 
pass  through  the  world  honestly.  He  gave  me 
histories  of  the  kind  above-mentioned  to  read, 
because  children  must  have  something  to  en- 
tertain them,  and  also  that  they  might  excite  a 
desire  in  me  to  become  a  true  Christian.  But 
that  the  fundamental  impulse  above  alluded  to 
arose  from  it,  was  the  purpose,  not  of  a  blind 
chance,  not  of  my  father,  nor  my  own  mind,  but 
of  the  great  Ruler  of  the  world,  who  intended 
eventually  to  make  use  of  me. 

I  therefore  take  it  as  a  settled  point,  that  it 
was  not  by  natural  predisposition,  but  by  God's 
own  wise  guidance  and  government  alone,  that 
He  imparted  to  my  spirit  the  impulse  to  live  and 
labor  on  a  large  scale  for  Jesus  Christ  and  his 
kingdom,  and  made  it  my  peculiar  vocation. 

But  as  my  natural  impulse— the  highly  frivo- 
lous and  copious  enjoyment  of  physical  and  men- 
tal pleasures — operated  in  a  manner  entirely  op- 
posed to  the  other  engrafted  impulse,  my  Heav- 
enly Guide  began  early  to  combat  this  danger- 
ous foe.  The  instrument  for  this  purpose  was 
also  my  father,  but  again,  without  his  having  a 
remote  presentiment  of  it ;  for  he  was  entirely 
unacquainted  with  my  natural  impulse,  or  he 
would  most  certainly  have  avoided  rocks  on 
which  I  should  have  inevitably  suffered  ship- 
wreck if  the  paternal  hand  of  God  had  not  ea- 
sily led  me  past  them.  My  father  had  no  idea 
of  all  this;  but  merely  from  the  mystic  princi- 
ple of  mortifying  the  flesh,  I  was  almost  daily 
whipped  with  the  rod.  I  know  for  a  certainty 
that  he  has  frequently  chastised  me  merely  to 
crucify  and  mortify  his  affection  for  me.  This 
kind  of  correction  would  have  had  a  highly  in- 
jurious effect  on  any  one  else  ;  but,  let  it  be  be- 
lieved on  my  word,  it  was  an  indispensably  re- 
quisite mode  of  tuition  for  me,  for  my  thought- 
less temperament  went  to  incredible  lengths  ia 
unguarded  moments  ;  no  one,  but  God  and  my- 
self, knows  what  horrible  thoughts,  wishes  and 
desires,  were  awakened  in  my  soul ;  it  seemed 
as  if  some  mighty  hostile  power  had  excited  in- 
nocent people,  who  intended  no  evil,  to  cast  me 
into  the  most  baneful  and  dreadful  temptations 
and  dangers,  with  respect  to  my  moral  charac- 
ter ;  but  it  never  succeeded  ;  it  was  not  my  re- 
ligious impulse,  nor  my  principles  (for  whence 
does  a  child  derive  principles'])  but  my  father's 
severe  corrections  and  God's  gracious  preser- 
vation, which  were  the  sole  causes  that  I  was 
not  thrown  a  hundred  and  a  thousand  times 
into  the  pit  of  perdition. 

This  very  innate  corruption,  which  was  so 
entirely  opposed  to  my  religious  impulse,  is  the 
reason  why  my  Heavenly  Guide  was  obliged  to 
exercise  me,  for  sixty  years  together,  in  the 
school  of  affliction,  before  He  could  make  use 
of  me ;  and  in  the  sequel  it  will  be  found  that 
all  my  sufferings  had  a  tendency  to  mortify  fri- 
volity and  worldly-mindedness,  and  to  tear  them 
up  by  the  roots. 

It  is  therefore  now  necessary  to  examine, 
whether  I  am  really  a  great  man,  a  man  of 


170 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


great  mind,  or  a  great  genius  ;  that  is,  whether, 
by  means  of  my  own  powers  and  faculties,  I  have, 
*hrough  my  own  efforts,  placed  myself  in  such  a 
situation  that  lean  now  yield  obedience  to  the  im- 
vulscs  granted  to  me  by  God,  to  labor  extensively 
and  comprehensively  for  Christ,  his  religion,  and 
his  kingdom  ? 

What  my  father  intended  to  make  cf  me.  was 
a  good  schoolmaster,  and  besides  that,  a  tailor  ; 
and  he  so  far  attained  his  object  that  I  became 
a  schoolmaster  and  a  tailor  ;  but  I  had  no  high- 
er wish  than  to  become  a  preacher.  This  latter 
effect  was  therefore  produced  by  my  religious 
impulse:  I  wished  to  study  theology;  and  this 
would  have  afforded  my  father  pleasure,  but  it 
was  utterly  impossible  ;  for  his  whole  property 
was  not  sufficient  to  support  me  at  the  Univer- 
sity even  for  two  years.  I  was'  therefore  obli- 
ged to  continue  a  schoolmaster  and  tailor  ;  and 
my  impulse  now  contented  itself  with  insatiable 
reading  and  research,  in  every  department  of 
science  ;  as  my  mind  had  attained  a  relish  for 
intellectual  ideas  and  sciences,  or  a  classical 
feeling,  it  now  pursued  its  course  unrestrained, 
and  only  sought  opportunities  for  reading  and 
brooding  over  books.  The  progress  I  have 
made  in  the  departments  of  scientific  knowledge, 
may  certainly  be  ascribed  to  my  diligence  and 
activity ;  and  po  much  is  true,  that  the  Lord 
has  made  use  of  it,  in  a  secondary  point  of  view, 
as  a  preparatory  means,  but  it  has  not  directly 
aided  the  development  of  my  real  destiny. 

To  be  always  sitting  at  the  needle,  and  ma- 
king clothes  for  people,  was  highly  repugnant, 
to  me  ;  and  to  be  everlastingly  instructing  boys 
and  girls  in  A  B  C,  in  spelling,  reading,  and 
writing,  was  equally  wearisome  ;  by  degrees,  I 
considered  the  being  doomed  to  be  a  schoolmas- 
ter and  tailor  as  something  very  melancholy  ; 
and  with  this  commenced  my  inward  sufferings, 
for  I  saw  no  possibility  of  becoming  a  preacher, 
or  any  thing  else. 

My  father's  severe  discipline  still  continued  ; 
for  though  I  was  no  longer  beaten  every  day,  I 
was  never  happy  near  him.  His  inexorable  se- 
verity at  every  trifling  fault  awakened  in  me 
the  irresistible  impulse  to  get  away  from  him  as 
often  and  as  long  as  possible  :  and  this  also  be- 
cause I  was  obliged  to  sit  at  the  needle  with 
him  from  early  in  the  morning  till  late  at  night ; 
so  that  I  accepted  every  call  to  be  schoolmaster 
with  the  greatest  joy.  As  I  did  not  instruct 
children  with  pleasure,  but  merely  from  a  sense 
of  duty,  and  out  of  school-hours  brooded  over 
books,  whilst  my  heart  never  thought  of  earning 
any  thing  in  addition  by  working  as  a  tailor ; 
and  besides  this,  as  my  easy-minded  thought- 
lessness deprived  me  of  the  trifling  pay  I  receiv- 
ed as  schoolmaster,  my  father  was  continually 
obliged  to  clothe  and  support  me.  He  saw,  to 
his  great  grief,  that  I  should  never  make  a  good 
schoolmaster,  which  naturally  rendered  him 
more  severe  and  unfriendly  towards  me ;  and 
after  he  had  married  a  worldly-minded,  unfeel- 
ing woman,  who  required  her  stepson  to  go  to 
the  field  with  the  rest,  and  perform  all  kinds  of 
agricultural  labor,  even  the  most  difficult,  such 
as  hoeing,  mowing,  threshing;  &c,  my  misery 
rose  to  its  height ;  for  my  limbs  being  unaccus- 
tomed to  hard  labor  from  my  youth,  I  suffered 
.dreadfully.  By  using  the  rough  implements  of 
husbandry,  my  hands  were  always  full  of  blis- 


ters, and  the  skin  remained  sticking  to  the  shaft 
of  the  hoe ;  and  when  I  used  the  scythe,  or  the 
flail,  my  ribs  and  hips  cracked  with  the  exer- 
tion ;  so  that  days  and  weeks  seemed  an  eter- 
nity to  me.  At  the  same  time  my  future  pros- 
pects were  gloomy ;  I  saw  no  way  of  escape 
from  this  situation,  nor  was  I  any  longer  em- 
ployed as  schoolmaster  ;  consequently,  nothing 
remained  for  me,  except  to  work  up  and  down 
in  the  country  as  a  journeyman  tailor.  Oppor- 
tunities for  doing  so  occurred  ;  but  with  all  this, 
my  clothes  and  linen  grew  so  shabby  that  1  was 
looked  upon  as  a  good-for-nothing  and  lost  man. 
My  religious  impulses  shone  upon  me  from  afar ; 
when  I  reflected  on  Spener,  Franke,  or  pious 
preachers  in  general,  and  then  imagined  to  my- 
self what  bliss  it  would  be  for  me  to  become 
such  a  one,  and  that  it  was  impossible  in  my 
situation,  my  heart  broke  within  me. 

The  reasons  why  Providence  led  me  into  this 
terribly  painful  situation,  were  two-fold ;  first, 
to  subdue  my  worldly-mindedness,  which  ex- 
ceeded all  description,  and  my  ungovernable 
frivolity;  this  intention  I  plainly  perceived:  and 
then  to  take  me  from  my  native  province,  be- 
cause it  could  not  execute  its  plan  with  respect 
to  me,  in  it ;  but  I  was  not  at  all  aware  of  this 
object.  I  was  so  fond  of  my  own  country,  that 
extreme  necessity  alone  could  banish  me  from 
it,  and  this  soon  occurred  ;  I  left  it. 
9  Let  it  be  well  observed  here,  that  this  first 
step  to  my  future  destiny  was  taken  by  no 
means  with,  but  against,  my  will.  It  was  ne- 
cessary that  I  should  be  driven  out  by  the  pow- 
er of  Providence  :  and  it  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  my  object,  that  the  reader  should  con- 
vince himself  most  clearly,  that  I  have  contrib- 
uted nothing  to  the  plan  of  my  guidance. 

My  first  intention  was  to  travel  to  Holland, 
and  seek  employment  from  the  merchants  there ; 
but  what  I  heard  at  Solingen,  in  the  Duchy  of 
Berg,  caused  me  to  change  my  purpose.  I  con- 
tinued there,  and  worked  at  my  trade.  This 
kind  of  employment  was  extremely  repugnant 
to  me ;  for  my  sensuality  always  required  di- 
verting variety.  The  reading  of  novels,  or  oth- 
er entertaining  stories,  was  peculiarly  that  to 
which  my  worldly  turn  of  mind  was  directed. 
My  imagination  and  fancy  were  incessantly  oc- 
cupied with  the  most  romantic  imagery,  in  an 
indescribably  vivid  manner,  and  my  levity  soar- 
ed above  every  scruple.  Eternal  love  had  com- 
passion upon  me,  in  such  a  manner,  that  by  an 
unspeakably  inward  drawing  to  introversion, 
which  penetrated  deep  into  my  heart  and  perva- 
ded my  whole  being,  it  irrevocably  decided  me 
to  devote  myself  and  the  whole  of  my  future 
life  to  the  Lord.  This  attraction  has  always 
hitherto  continued,  and  will  continue  till  I  stand 
before  the  throne ;  but  my  natural  corruption 
was  far  from  being  eradicated  by  it.  Jesus 
Christ,  by  his  great  and  glorious  redemption, 
and  by  his  Spirit,  had  to  combat  and  subdue  it 
through  the  medium  of  wearisome  and  painful, 
but  gracious  trials;  this  great  business  is  not 
yet  completed,  nor  will  it  be  until  my  soul  is 
delivered  from  the  body  of  sin  and  death. 

Notwithstanding  my  spirit  had  now  taken  its 
direction  to  the  great  object  for  which  mankind 
is  destined,  yet  there  were  an  infinite  number 
of  bye- paths,  and  I  soon  hit  upon  one  of  them. 
My  disinclination  to  the  trade  of  a  tailor  caused 


RETROSPECT  OF 


STILLIN  G'S  LIFE. 


171 


me  to  seize  with  avidity  the  offer  of  a  situation 
as  private  tutor  in  a  merchant's  house,  and  my 
thoughtlessness  did  not  make  a  single  enquiry  ! 
My  wretchedness  there  rose  to  its  height ;  such 
melancholy,  such  hellish  torments,  such  a  pri- 
vation of  all  that  can  afford  consolation,  no  one 
can  form  an  idea  of,  who  has  not  experienced 
the  like.  Sensuality  and  frivolity  were  there  at- 
tacked at  the  root.  At  length,  I  could  no  long- 
er endure  it ;  I  ran  off,  and  wandered  about  in 
the  wilderness ;  then  recollecting  myself,  I  went 
back  to  Rade  vorm  Wald,  where  the  late  Johann 
Jacob  Becker  (Mr.  Isaac)  exercised  towards  me 
that  glorious  master-piece  of  Christian  philan- 
thropy recorded  in  my  life.  I  was  now  so  thor- 
oughly cured  of  my  disgust  at  the  tailor's  trade, 
that  subsequently,  Mr.  Spanier  and  my  master, 
Becker,  could  scarcely  persuade  me  to  accept 
the  situation  of  domestic  tutor  with  the  former; 
and  I  am  even  now  so  far  from  feeling  a  repug- 
nance to  it,  that  if  needs  be,  I  could  immediate- 
ly place  myself  again  upon  the  shop-board. 

During  my  residence  with  Mr.  Spanier,  every 
thing  seemed  as  though  I  should  become  a  mer- 
chant. I  was  daily  employed  in  mercantile  af- 
fairs, every  thing  succeeded  with  me,  and  al- 
though I  had  naturally  no  inclination  to  com- 
merce, yet  I  believed  it  was  the  guidance  of 
God  ;  particularly  as  I  was  secretly  assured 
that  the  rich,  handsome,  young,  and  virtuous 
daughter  of  a  merchant  was  destined  for  me, 
that  her  father  would  bestow  her  upon  me,  and 
then  take  me  into  partnership.  Although  I  felt 
no  particular  pleasure  at  all  this,  yet  I  believed 
it  was  the  course  of  Providence,  which  I  must 
necessarily  follow,  and  regard  the  whole  affair 
as  a  piece  of  peculiar  good  fortune. 

In  the  midst  of  these  ideas  and  expectations 
I  received,  most  assuredly  without  my  own  co- 
operation, the  particular  impression  mentioned 
in  my  history,  that  I  must  study  medicine.  To 
this  I  had  no  objection,  nor  had  those  that  in- 
tended to  over-rule  my  future  life  ;  for  they  said 
it  was,  after  all,  something  uncommon  for  the 
head  of  a  respectable  family  to  give  his  daugh- 
ter to  a  man  who  a  short  time  before  had  been 
a  tailor's  apprentice  ;  but  that  if  I  had  studied 
and  taken  my  degrees,  all  this  might  be  done 
with  propriety  ;  I  should  be  then  Doctor  and 
Merchant  at  the  same  time.  This  was  man's 
plan,  and  mine  likewise,  but  not  the  plan  of  my 
heavenly  Guide.  Soon  afterwards,  the  remark- 
able circumstance  occurred  to  me  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Molitor  of  Attendorn,  who  presented  me 
with  his  ophthalmic  arcana,  and  then  laid  him- 
self down  and  died.  God  knows,  that  in  my 
whole  life  I  had  never  thought  of  becoming  an 
oculist,  and  that  neither  I,  nor  any  one  of  my 
family,  had  given  the  remotest  occasion  to  this 
bequest.  And  now  let  every  one  who  has  read 
my  history,  reflect,  what  my  ophthalmic  prac- 
tice has  hitherto  been,  is  still,  and  may  yet  be ! 
He  that  does  not  here  recognize  the  all-ruling 
band  of  an  omniscient  and  omnipotent  Deity, 
has  neither  eyes  to  see,  nor  ears  to  hear ;  no- 
thing will  do  him  any  good. 

I  made  use  of  the  remedies  I  had  obtained  for 
diseases  of  the  eye,  and  became  by  this  means 
acquainted  with  the  worthy  family  of  my  late 
father-in-law,  Peter  Heyders,  of  Ronsdorf  in  the 
duchy  of  Berg  ;  and  contrary  to  all  expectation, 
contrary  to  all  my  plans  and  purposes,  I  was 


obliged  to  betroth  myself  to  a  consumptive  and 
weakly  female  on  a  sick-bed,  an  act  in  which  my 
worldly  interests  were  really  not  consulted  ;  I  did 
it  merely  from  obedience  towards  God,  because 
I  believed  it  was  his  will ;  there  was  no  idea  on 
my  side  of  falling  in  love,  or  anything  of  the  kind. 
I  engaged  myself  to  Christina,  although  I  knew 
that  her  father  could  not  support  me  in  the  least, 
and  that  assistance  from  the  quarter  whence  1 
had  previously  received  it  was  entirely  at  an 
end.  I  then  went  with  half  a  French  dollar  to 
the  University  of  Strasburg;  how  wonderfully 
the  Lord  there  assisted  me  my  history  shows. 

i  now  ask  again,  was  it  my  plan  to  marry 
Christina,  and  was  it  my  doing  that  I  studied 
medicine  at  Strasburg^ 

I  returned,  and  fixed  myself  at  Elberfeld  as 
practical  physician  and  oculist,  entirely  without 
salary.  I  now  expected  extraordinary  results 
from  my  practice,  for  I  regarded  myself  as  one 
whom  the  Lord  had  particularly  fitted  for  that 
vocation.  I  then  thought  also,  with  my  reli- 
gious impulse  in  connection  with  this,  to  work 
for  the  Lord  and  his  kingdom  ;  and  believed 
that  I  should  be  a  very  beneficial  instrument,  in 
his  hand  at  the  couch  of  the  sick,  and  be  able  to 
serve  them  both  as  it  respects  body  and  soul. 
I  intended  also  to  write  religious  books,  and 
thus  to  satisfy  my  inward  impulse.  But  all 
these  expectations  ended  in  nothing  at  all ;  my 
practice  was  nothing  extraordinary,  but  very 
ordinary,  very  common,  except  that  my  oph- 
thalmic cures  excited  much  attention  ;  my  cat- 
aract operations  were  in  particular  extremely 
successful ;  but  for  these,  likewise,  I  am  not  at 
all  indebted  to  my  own  abilities  ;  I  learned  the 
practice  indeed  at  Strasburg,  because  it  belongs 
to  the  study  of  surgery  ;  but  I  had  such  a  hor- 
ror and  repugnance  to  the  practice  of  it,  that  I 
still  well  remember  how  I  felt,  when  the  poor 
woman  at  Wichlinghausen,  together  with  the 
late  Rev.  Mr.  Müller,  Doctor  Dinckler,  and  my 
friend  Troost  at  Elberfeld  compelled  me,  as  it 
were,  to  hazard  the  operation  on  the  above- 
mentioned  poor  woman  ;  I  performed  it  with 
fear  and  trembling,  miserably  ill,  and  yet  the 
woman  recovered  her  sight  admirably.  I  then 
gained  nmre  courage  ;  but  even  now,  after  hav- 
ing operated  upon  upwards  of  fifteen  hundred 
blind  people,  a  trepidation  always  comes  over 
me  when  I  have  to  perform  the  operation. 

I  therefore  testify  again,  by  all  that  is  true, 
that  I  did  not  contribute  in  the  least  degree  to- 
wards my  becoming  an  oculist,  nor  to  the  ex- 
traordinary blessing  which  has  attended  my 
practice  as  an  oculist.  This  is  entirely  the 
Lord's  guidance. 

It  cannot  be  described  into  what  profound 
melancholy  I  sank,  when  I  clearly  saw  that  the 
art  of  medicine  was  not  my  department  ;  and 
in  addition  to  this  painful  conviction,  there  was 
the  oppressive  load  of  debt,  which  considerably 
increased  every  year,  without  my  being  able  to 
alter  or  prevent  it.  This  was  in  reality  medi- 
cine against  sensuality  and  frivolity;  and  both 
were  also,  God  be  thanked  !  entirely  eradicated. 
I  now  saw  no  way  of  escape  whatever ;  I  had 
a  wife  and  children,  an  increasing  debt,  and  a 
continually  decreasing  income.  I  was  not  de- 
ficient in  learning  and  knowledge;  I  crept 
through  every  ancient  and  modern  cranny  of 
medicinal  literature,  and  found  in  this  unstable 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


172 

science  nothing  but  obscurity.  I  was  now  I 
heartily  weary  of  medicine;  but  wherewith  was  I 
I  to  support  myself,  and  how  was  I  to  pay  my 
debts  ]  I  was  consequently  obliged  to  surren- 
der myself  to  Providence  at  discretion  ;  this  I 
did  must  sincerely,  both  for  time  and  eternity, 
and  this  surrender  is  not  only  not  annulled,  but 
it  has  become  more  and  more  effectual  and  un- 
conditional. 

Religious  books !  Yes,  I  wrote  them,  but 
with  little  perceptible  result.  "  The  Sling  of  a 
Shepherd's  Boy,"  "  The  Great  Panacea  for  the 
Disease  of  Scepticism,"  and  "The  Theodice  of 
the  Shepherd's  Boy,"  produced  little  effect ;  on 
the  contrary,  "  Stilling's  Childhood,"  a  piece 
which  I  wrote  without  any  intention  of  publi- 
cation, but  merely  to  read  to  a  company  of 
young  people,  and  which  Goethe  sent  to  the 
press  entirely  without  my  knowledge  and  will, 
made  an  unexpected  and  incredible  sensation  ; 
so  that  I  was  urged  to  continue  it,  and  there- 
fore wrote,  whilst  in  Elberfeld,  "Stilling's  Youth- 
ful Years,  and  Wanderings,"  one  after  the  oth- 
er. I  can  boldly  affirm,  that  very  few  books 
have  gained  their  authors  so  large,  so  noble- 
minded,  and  so  benevolent  a  class  of  readers  as 
this  ;  and  even  now.  after  the  lapse  of  twenty- 
eight  years,  after  so  many  changes,  so  much 
progress  and  regress  in  culture  and  literature, 
Stilling  still  continues  to  be  fashionable  ;  he  is 
still  read  with  pleasure  and  the  same  edification 
as  at  first.  And  what  a  blessing  this  book  has 
produced  with  reference  to  religion  and  true 
Christianity,  God  the  Omniscient  knows ;  and 
1  also  in  part,  for  I  can  show  a  multitude  of 
written  testimonies  to  the  truth  of  that  asser- 
tion. The  history  of  Stilling's  life,  therefore, 
laid  the  first  and  considerable  foundation  for  my 
real  destiny,  and  the  following-up  of  my  reli- 
gious impulse. 

I  now  again  beg  that  it  may  be  carefully  ob- 
served, that  I  did  not  give  the  smallest  occasion 
to  this  extraordinary  and  important  part  of  my 
history,  which  proved  the  basis  of  that  to  which 
I  was  eventually  and  really  called  ;  that  is,  the 
following  of  my  religious  impulse  ;  but  that  it 
was  simply  the  free  arrangement  of  Providence. 

If  it  be  asked  why  my  heavenly  Guide  did  not 
at  that  time  place  me  at  my  true  post,  I  answer, 
that  there  was  still  very  much  in  me  to  smooth 
away  ;  nor  was  I  yet  firm  enough  in  my  princi- 
ples. I  still  struggled  with  fatalism ;  and  be- 
sides this,  the  period  was  not  then  arrived  in 
which  it  was  proper  for  me  to  act. 

At  length,  in  the  hour  of  extremity,  and  when 
I  saw  no  way  of  escape,  I  was  delivered  in  a 
manner  of  which  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea, 
and  of  which  I  had  never  dreamt.  In  conse- 
quence of  a  treatise  on  the  scientific  improve- 
ment of  the  common  forests  in  the  principality 
of  Nassau  Siegen,  my  native  province,  by  which 
I  sought  to  afford  pleasure  to  a  certain  friend,  I 
was  appointed  public  teacher  of  Agriculture, 
Technology,  Commerce,  and  the  Veterinary 
Art,  at  the  newly-established  Financial  Acade- 
my at  Kaisers- Lautern  in  the  Palatinate,  with 
a  fixed  income  of  six  hundred  guilders  ;  and  at 
my  departure,  the  most  urgent  debts,  to  the 
amount  of  eight  hundred  guilders,  were  liquida- 
ted in  a  manner  as  unexpected  as  that  in  which 
the  principal  sum  was  liquidated  in  Switzerland, 
two  years  and  a-half  ago. 


I  therefore  removed  with  my  family  to  Lautern. 

That  this  again  was  no  preconcerted  plan  of 
mine,  and  not  my  own  guidance,  but  solely  and 
completely  the  plan  and  execution  of  my  heav- 
enly Guide,  every  one  must  feel,  who  is  in  any 
degree  capable  of  reflection. 

I  now  believed  to  a  certainty,  that  the  study 
of  political  economy  was  the  vocation  for  which 
Providence  had  guided  and  prepared  me  from 
my  youth  up;  for  I  had  ample  opportunity  of 
learning  practically  all  the  sciences  I  taught.  I 
had  studied  medicine,  because  the  auxiliary  sci- 
ences belonging  to  it  were  indispensable  in  rny 
present  vocation.  My  religious  impulse  was 
not  extinguished  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  intended 
to  unite  it  with  this  calling.  In  this  convic- 
tion, I  continued  perfectly  quiet  five-and-twenty 
years,  and  labored  with  all  fidelity  in  my  voca- 
tion ;  this  is  proved  by  my  eleven  manuals,  and 
the  great  multitude  of  treatises  which  I  wrote 
during  that  period.  My  heart  no  longer  con- 
templated any  more  changes,  particularly  in  my 
old  age,  until  at  length  the  "Nostalgia"  became 
the  mighty  means  of  placing  me  in  my  peculiar 
station. 

My  readers  are  already  aware,  how  uninten- 
tionally I  wrote  the  "  Nostalgia  ;"  the  prepara- 
tives to  it,  which  consisted  of  the  collection  of 
many  sentences,  the  reading  of  humorous  wri- 
tings, &c,  were  by  no  means  systematic  as  re- 
garded myself,  though  systematic  with  God ; 
and  the  determination  to  publish  the  "  Nostal- 
gia" was  so  unpremeditated,  that  I  only  decided 
upon  it  when  Krieger  besought  me  to  compose 
something  of  a  classical  nature  for  him ;  and 
when  I  began,  it  was  by  no  means  my  object  to 
write  a  work  of  such  an  extent  as  it  became 
under  my  hands,  and  as  it  afterwards  proved  in 
its  effects,  which  were  great,  and  still  are  so, 
since  it  operates  like  a  ferment  in  every  quarter 
of  the  globe  ;  this  1  can  prove.  I  now  received 
requisitions  from  every  quarter,  to  devote  my- 
self entirely  to  religious  authorship,  stating  that 
I  was  designed  for  it  by  God,  &c.  "  The  Grey 
Man,"  "  The  Scenes  in  the  Invisible  World," 
and  "The  History  of  the  Triumph,"  increased 
and  strengthened  this  requisition  of  my  class 
of  readers,  which  consisted  of  many  thousand 
good  men.  But  how  could  I  listen  to  these 
calls  1  A  multitude  of  domestic  hindrances 
stood  in  the  way ;  my  debts  were  not  yet  liqui- 
dated; and  where  was  the  prince  who  would 
pension  me  for  such  a  very  uncommon  object  t 
The  answer  to  these  questions  is  this :  the  Lord 
cleared  the  hindrances  out  of  the  way  in  a  glo- 
rious and  divine  manner;  in  a  similar  manner 
I  was  enabled  to  pay  my  debts  ;  and  the  "  Nos- 
talgia" had  so  prepared  the  good,  great,  and 
pious  Elector  of  Baden,  that  he  immediately  re- 
solved to  place  me  in  my  true  station,  as  soon 
as  opportunity  was  afforded  him. 

See,  my  dear  readers !  it  is  in  this  indescri- 
bably wise  and  gracious  manner  that  the  Lord 
has  at  length  led  me  to  the  attainment  of  that 
aim,  the  impulse  for  which  He  caused  to  be  en- 
grafted in  me  in  my  earliest  infantine  years. 
My  present  occupation  therefore  is, 

1.  The  continuance  of  my  ophthalmic  prac- 
tice ;  for  this  vocation  has  been  legitimated  and 
assigned  me  by  the  Lord's  direction; 

2.  The  continuance  of  my  religious  author- 
ship, as  my  heavenly  Guide  directs  ;  and 


RETROSPECT  OF 


STILLINGS  LIFE. 


173 


3.  The  distributing  and  editing  of  little  edify- 
ing tracts  for  the  lower  classes,  for  which  pur- 
pose contributions  in  money  are  sent  me  by 
kind  and  piously-disposed  friends,  in  order  to 
enable  me  to  disseminate  such  trai-ts  gratui- 
tously among  the  lower  orders.  Whether  the 
Lord  has  any  thing  further  in  view  with  me,  I 
know  not ;  I  am  his  servant,  let  him  employ 
me  as  He  pleases ;  but  I  shall  take  no  step  with- 
out first  endeavoring  clearly  to  ascertain  his 
will. 

All  my  readers  will  now  probably  be  convin- 
ced that  I  am  not  a  great  man,  a  man  of  great 
mind,  or  a  great  genius ;  for  I  have  contributed 
nothing  whatever  to  any  part  of  the  manner  in 
which  I  have  been  led  ;  it  was  even  necessary, 
first  of  all,  painfully  to  prepare  my  natural  dis- 
position, by  much  labor  and  tedious  sufferings. 
I  was  merely  a  passive  mass  in  the  forming 
hand  of  the  Artist — clay  in  the  hand  of  the  Pot- 
ter. He,  therefore,  that  regards  me  as  a  man 
of  great  talents,  and  great  virtues,  or  even  es- 
timates me  as  a  great  saint,  does  me  much 
wrong  ;  he  acts  just  as  improperly  as  a  person 
would  do,  who  praised  an  old,  oaken,  rude,  and 
coarsely-made  chest,  as  a  great  specimen  of  art 
and  a  master-piece,  because  some  great  man 
lays  up  valuable  treasures  in  it  for  daily  use. 
But,  whoever  is  inclined  to  wonder  and  rejoice 
at  me,  let  him  wonder  at  the  way  in  which  I 
have  been  led,  adore  the  Father  of  men,  and 
thank  him  that  He  still  does  not  leave  himself 
without  a  witness  ;  that  He  also  prepares  wit- 
nesses to  tread  his  sacred  paths,  and  still  sends 
laborers  into  his  vineyard,  even  at  the  eleventh 
hour. 

I  now  earnestly  intreat  my  readers  to  give 
God  and  ihe  truth  the  glory,  and  minutely  ex- 
amine the  following  positions. 

1.  Does  not  the  whole  history  of  my  life  in- 
contestably  show  that,  not  human  wisdom  and 
prudence,  but  He  who  knows  how  to  govern  the 
hearts,  actions,  and  fates  of  men,  yet,  without 
controlling  their  free  will,  has  really  guided, 
formed,  and  brought  me  forward,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  according  to  a  premeditated  plan1? 

2.  Does  not  my  history  likewise  incontro- 
vertibly  show  that,  on  my  part,  not  the  small- 
est thing  was  done,  either  with  respect  to  the 
project,  or  the  accomplishment  of  the  plan  of 
my  life  1  Neither  enthusiasm  nor  error  had 
any  part  in  that  plan  or  its  execution ;  for 
whenever  I  was  enthusiastic  or  mistaken,  I 
was  always  taught  better  by  the  result. 

3.  Therefore,  if  the  all-wise,  all-kind,  and  all- 
powerful  Governor  of  the  world  has  himself 
guided  and  prepared  me,  without  either  myself 
or  any  other  individual  having  part  in  his  plan, 
can  his  work  have  been  fruitless  1  Can  He  so 
lead  and  guide  a  fanatic,  an  enthusiast,  and  a 
deceiver,  as  He  has  led  me,  in  order  to  mislead 
men  1  He  may  permit  a  fanatic  and  a  seducer 
to  labor  through  difficulties,  and  obtain,  through 
their  own  efforts,  a  number  of  adherents ;  for 
He  leaves  free  agents  at  liberty  to  work,  so 
long  as  it  can  consist  with  his  high  counsels. 
But  let  any  one  make  it  appear  that,  during  my 
whole  life,  I  have  at  any  time  labored  through 
difficulties  of  the  kind,  or  have  sought  to  form 
for  myself  a  party  in  a  religious  respect. 

4.  Does  it  not  follow  from  all  this,  that  my 
religious  system  of  doctrine,  which  is  no  other 


than  that  which  Christ  and  his  apostles,  and 
subsequently  all  the  orthodox  fathers  of  every 
century,  have  taught,  is  true,  and  has  again  le- 
gitimated itself  in  my  guidance  \  I  may  have 
ideas,  I  may  have  minor  conceptions,  which 
are  not  altogether  pure,  and  which  are  not  yet 
sufficiently  rectified  ;  but  in  the  main  object  of 
Christianity,  it  is  as  certain  that  I  do  not  mis- 
take, as  that  I  am  sure  that  God  has  led  me 
during  my  whole  life,  and  has  Himself  formed 
rne  to  be  a  witness  of  the  truth.  However,  I 
can  affirm  before  God,  with  the  most  perfect 
sincerity,  that  none  of  my  religious  ideas  have 
arisen  through  wearisome  reflection,  or  are  the 
result  of  any  deductions  of  mere  reason,  but  all 
of  them  have  unfolded  themselves  to  my  mind 
during  the  consideration  of  difficult  passages  of 
Scripture.  The  principal  points  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  according  to  my  conviction,  are 
contained  in  the  following  fundamental  posi- 
tions. 

1.  The  Holy  Scriptures,  as  we  at  present 
possess  them,  contain,  from  the  first  chapter  of 
Genesis  to  the  last  of  the  prophet  Malachi,  and 
from  the  first  chapter  of  the  Gospel  of  Matthew 
to  the  last  chapter  of  the  Apocalypse,  the  histo- 
ry of  the  revelation  of  God  to  man  ;  and  are, 
therefore,  the  only  credible  source  of  all  those 
super-sensible  truths  which  are  needful  for  man 
in  the  attainment  of  that  to  which  he  is  des- 
tined. 

2.  Man  was  first  created  by  God  in  a  state 
of  perfection  ;  but  he  sinned  by  disobedience 
against  God,  and  by  this  means,  lost  the  equi- 
librium between  the  sensual  and  moral  impul- 
ses ;  the  sensual  became  more  and  more  pre- 
dominant, and,  therefore,  with  respect  to  all  his 
posterity,  the  thoughts  and  imaginations  of  the 
heart  of  man  are  evil  from  his  youth  up,  and 
that  continually. 

3.  Previous  to  this,  a  class  of  higher  and  more 
spiritual  beings  had  fallen  away  from  God,  and 
become  evil ;  the  prince  of  these  beings  had  se- 
duced the  first  man  to  disobedience  ;  these  evil 
spirits  can  then  work  upon  the  spiritual  part  of 
man,  when  he  gives  them  the  opportunity  for  so 
doing.  But  there  are  also  good  spirits,  which 
are  about  a  man,  and  likewise  influence  him, 
when  circumstances  require  it.  Evil  spirits, 
together  with  Satan  their  prince,  his  angels, 
and  all  evil  men,  I  call  the  kingdom  of  darkness. 

4.  God  has,  from  eternity,  begotten  a  being, 
of  the  same  nature  with  himself,  and  which 
stands  in  the  same  connection  with  him  as  a 
son  to  his  father;  hence  he  is  also  called  in  the 
Bible,  the  Son  of  God,  Logos,  the  God-word. 
This  Son  of  God  undertook  the  guidance  and 
redemption  of  the  fallen  human  race.  In  the 
Old  Testament,  he  revealed  himself  under  the 
name  of  Jehovah  ;  and  in  the  New,  as  a  real 
man,  under  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  is 
God  and  man  in  one  person. 

5.  This  God-man,  Jesus  Christ,  redeemed 
fallen  human  nature,  by  his  bloody  sacrificial 
death,  from  sin,  death,  and  the  punishment  of 
sin.  In  this  bloody  sacrificial  death  lies  the 
foundation  for  reconciliation  with  God,  the  for- 
giveness of  sins,  and,  consequently,  also  of  sal- 
vation. The  moral  precepts  of  Christ — which 
are  contained  likewise  in  all  their  points  in  the 
Old  Testament,  and  have  been  taught  almost 
perfectly  by  heathens — merely  serve  to  enable 


174  HEINRICH 

a  man  to  examine  whether,  and  in  how  far,  the 
bleeding  sacrifice  of  Christ  has  had  its  effect  on 
him.  They  are  the  natural  consequences  of  the 
work  of  redemption  ;  but  without  this,  as  little 
possible  to  be  practised  in  a  manner  acceptable 
to  God,  as  that  a  sick  man  should  be  able  to 
perform  the  business  of  one  in  health. 

6.  Jesus  Christ  rose  from  the  dead,  and  thus 
became  the  procuring  cause  of  the  resurrection 
of  mankind  ;  He  then  ascended  to  heaven,  and 
undertook  the  government  of  the  world.  He  is 
now,  therefore,  that  God  who  governs  all  things, 
guides  all  the  destinies  of  mankind,  and  leads 
every  thing,  in  great  things  as  well  as  in  small, 
collectively  as  well  as  individually,  to  the  great 
end  of  human  redemption,  which  He  finally  ac- 
complishes. For  this  purpose,  He  stands  op- 
posed, with  all  his  true  servants  and  worship- 
pers, together  with  the  holy  angels,  as  the  king- 
dom of  light,  to  the  kingdom  of  darkness  ;  both 
fight  against  each  other,  until  the  latter  is  en- 
tirely overcome,  and  thus  the  work  of  redemp- 
tion is  completed  ;  the  Son  then  gives  up  the 
kingdom  to  his  Father,  who  again  becomes  all 
in  all. 

7.  God  will  and  must  be  worshipped  in  Jesus 
Christ,  in  his  name ;  that  is,  in  his  person. 
God,  out  of  Christ,  is  a  metaphysical  nonentity, 
which  daring  reason  has  abstracted  from  the 
idea  of  a  supremely  perfect  man.  To  worship 
this  nonentity,  which  never  existed  any  where 
hut  in  the  head  of  a  philosopher,  is  pure  idola- 
try. In  Christ  alone  the  Father  of  men  is  to 
be  found  ;  there  alone  He  will  and  can  be  wor- 
shipped. 

8.  The  Holy  Spirit,  the  Spirit  of  the  Father 
and  Son,  is,  in  reality,  a  being  of  an  equally  di- 
vine nature  with  the  Father  and  the  Son.  He 
is  a  moral  divine  love-power  proceeding  from 
both,  even  as  light  and  warmth  emanate  from 
the  sun.  Since  the  day  of  Pentecost  until  now, 
He  is  continually  operative ;  every  one  who  be- 
lieves in  his  heart  in  Christ,  receives  his  saving 
doctrines,  heartily  repents  of  his  sin  and  misery, 
and  inwardly  longs  to  be  free  from  sin,  and  to 
become  a  true  child  of  God,  puts  on,  according 
to  the  measure  of  his  faith  and  the  degree  of 
his  longing,  the  Holy  Spirit ;  so  that  his  moral 
powers  become  gradually  stronger,  and  his 
sensual  bias  in  the  same  degree  weaker. 

This  is  my  true  and  invariable  system  of 
faith,  doctrine,  and  life,  which  has  stood  the 
test  of  many  trials  and  much  experience  and 
purification  ;  which  I  have  gleaned  and  collect- 
ed singly,  by  degrees,  like  rare  grains  of  gold, 
on  my  wearisome  pilgrimage :  not  by  specula- 
tion, or  the  effort  of  my  reasoning  powers,  but 
whilst  striving,  for  many  years,  after  light  and 
truth,  from  heartfelt  pressure  and  necessity,  and 
then  formed  into  a  rational  whole.  It  is  the 
pure  dogma  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  untroubled 
by  any  sophistry  or  fashionable  commentary,  on 
the  truth  and  certainty  of  which  I  am  willing 
to  live  and  die. 

The  modern  "march  of  intellect"  (as  it  is 
termed)  stands  directly  opposed  to  these  an- 
cient christian  doctrines  of  faith  and  salvation. 
Many  worthy,  upright,  and  well-meaning  men 
prefer  the  former  to  the  latter,  because  they 
conceive  that  the  doctrines  of  religion,  modified 
by  enlightened  reason,  are  better  adapted  to  the 
human  understanding  than  this  ancient  chris- 


STILLING. 

tian  system.  They  have  therefore  invented  an 
exposition,  a  Bible  commentary,  which  suits 
their  philosophy.  But  these  good  men  either 
perceive  or  do  not  perceive,  that  the  tendency 
of  this  new  enlightening  is  directed  to  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  natural  religion,  whose  dogmas 
are  merely  moral,  and  which,  in  the  end,  makes 
the  sending  of  Christ  quite  unnecessary,  and 
the  Bible  no  longer  needful.  But  as  neither 
classical  feeling  nor  the  beauty  of  virtue  can. 
restore  the  moral  powers  lost  in  Adam's  fall, 
immorality  incessantly  increases  under  the  sway 
of  this  enlightened  reason,  corruption  grows 
with  rapidity,  mankind  sinks  back  into  the  most 
senseless  barbarism  ;  and  the  divine  judgments 
exercise  severe  and  righteous  vengeance  upon 
a  people  that  despise  every  means  of  moral  im- 
provement and  amendment. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  experience  of  every 
age  proves,  in  the  cases  of  millions  of  individu- 
als, that  the  ancient  christian  doctrine  of  faith 
transforms  its  adherents  into  good  and  holy  cit- 
izens, husbands,  wives,  friends,  parents,  and 
children.  The  new  enlightening  may,  here 
and  there,  produce  an  honest  man  and  an  ex- 
ample of  civil  virtue,  but  only' for  public  appro- 
val ;  such  a  man  may  at  times  perform  a  brilliant 
action,  but  to  show  kindness  in  secret,  entirely 
unknown,  from  real  love  to  God  and  man,  even 
to  enemies,  is  utterly  impossible,  except  where 
the  spirit  of  Christ  prevails. 

But  now  the  very  important  question  arises, 
whence  comes  it  that  such  worthy  and  well- 
meaning  men,  notwithstanding  all  these  un- 
doubted facts,  still  continue  attached  to  their 
new-enlightened  system  1  To  this  it  is  answer- 
ed, there  are  two  premises,  two  foundations  for 
all  religious  demonstration  ;  if  these  premises 
are  false,  every  mathematically-correct  demon- 
stration becomes  also  false  and  incorrect,  and 
that  is  just  the  case  here. 

The  whole  of  the  christian  doctrine  of  faith 
is  founded  upon  the  following  fundamental  po- 
sition. God  created  the  first  man  as  a  free 
agent,  with  the  tendency  to  continually-increas- 
ing moral  perfection,  and  with  it  an  equally 
progressive  enjoyment  of  the  Supreme  Good ; 
but  he  suffered  himself  to  be  deceived  by  an 
unknown  evil  being,  so  that  he  applied  this  bias 
to  a  continually-increasing  sensual  perfection, 
and  with  it  an  equally  progressive  enjoyment 
of  earthly  good.  The  Holy  Scriptures  teach  us 
this  fundamental  position,  and  the  experience 
of  almost  six  thousand  years  teaches  us  that  it 
is  true.    Hence  it  follows  immediately,  that, — 

If  man  had  continued  in  his  natural  state,  it 
would  have  been  natural  to  him  to  obey  the 
dictates  of  morality  ;  his  head  would  have  dic- 
tated them,  and  his  heart  would  have  followed 
them  ;  natural  religion  would  then  have  been 
the  only  true  one.  But  in  our  present  fallen, 
state,  where  the  senses  rule  supremely  and  the 
moral  powers  are  maimed,  we  cannot  require 
of  the  weaker  part  to  overcome  the  stronger ; 
there  is,  consequently,  no  way  of  redemption 
in  nature,  and  the  Creator  was  therefore  again 
obliged  to  interfere,  in  order  that  men  might  be 
saved. 

Now  he  that  founds  a  correct  logical  demon- 
stration on  these  premises,  finds  «he  whole 
christian  system  of  salvation  very  rational,  and 
the  enlightening  of  the  present  day  /ery  irra- 
tional. 


/ 


RETROSPECT  OF  STILLING'S  LIFE. 


175 


The  fundamental  position  of  the  new-enlight- 
ened system  is  the  following: — "The  entire 
creation  is  a  connected  whole,  on  which  the 
Creator  has  bestowed  intellectual  and  physical 
powers,  and  has  given  them  their  eternal  and 
unchangeable  laws,  according  to  which  they 
work  unhindered  ;  so  that  there  is  now  no  fur- 
ther need  of  divine  cooperation,  or  influence  : 
consequently,  every  thing  in  the  whole  creation 
takes  its  necessary  and  unaltraeble  course, 
which  has  for  its  object  the  general  good  of 
every  being.  The  human  race  is  a  part  of  this 
whole  ;  and  the  eternal  laws  of  nature  operate 
so  that  the  free  will  of  every  man,  in  every  ac- 
tion, is  so  guided  that  he  does  what  he  does. 
Moral  philosophy  contains  the  laws  according 
to  which  the  free  will  must  be  governed."  This 
position  is,  in  reality,  fatalism ;  and  however 
much  it  may  be  concealed  and  guarded,  it  is 
with  all,  even  the  most  moderate  rationalist, 
more  or  less  openly  or  concealed,  the  universal 
fundamental  idea. 

But  how  may  reason  have  arrived  at  this 
idea  1  I  answer,  In  a  very  natural  manner.  It 
seeks  to  convince  itself  of  the  existence  of  a 
Supreme  Being,  and  afterwards  to  search  out 
his  nature  and  qualities  ;  and  as  it  knows  no 
other  rational  being  but  itself  in  the  whole  sen- 
sible creation,  it  removes  every  limitation  from 
the  human  soul,  and  then  finds  an  infinitely  ra- 
tional, almighty,  omniscient,  all-gracious,  om- 
nipotent human  soul,  which  it  calls  God.  Now 
even  as  a  human  artist  makes  a  work  of  art — for 
instance,  a  watch  ;  and  as  this  watch  would  be 
very  imperfect,  if  the  artist  were  continually 
under  the  necessity  of  turning,  moving,  and 
helping  in  various  ways,  first  one  little  wheel, 
and  then  another, — the  supremely  perfect  Art- 
ist has  made  a  machine,  which,  because  its 
Maker  is  supremely  perfect,  must  also  be  su- 
premely perfect,  and  therefore  no  where  requires 
any  after-assistance  or  cooperation  of  the  art- 
ist. 

But  that  this  horrible  position  is  not  true,  our 
own  free  feelings  tell  us,  and  likewise  our  very 
reason  ;  for  if  it  were  true,  every  act  of  man, 
whichever  way  it  may  be  turned  and  twisted, 
as  it  is  performed,  is  determined  by  the  Crea- 
tor. The  most  abominable  deeds  whien.  any 
individual  may  commit,  and  the  most  dreadful 
sufferings  which  men  may  cause  each  other, 
all  the  oppressions  of  widows  and  orphans,  all 
the  horrors  of  war,  &c.  ;  all  this,  the  God  of  the 
modern  enlightening  has  purposed  ;  for  he  has 
formed  the  plan  of  nature  in  such  a  manner  that 
all  this  must  necessarily  take  place. 

No  one  will  deny  that  every  man  who  is  only 
in  some  measure  rational,  must  shrink  back 
from  this  inference,  which  is  certainly  logically 
correct ;  consequently,  reason  here  stands  in 
contradiction  to  itself :  and  when  that  is  the 
case,  its  jurisdiction  ceases,  it  has  reached  its 
limit.  Nothing  more  dreadful  can  be  imagined 
than  that  human  reason  —  particularly  in  our 
times,  when  the  most  unbounded  luxury  vies 
with  the  most  ungovernable  immorality — should 
be  led  in  such  paths,  and  that  this  should  even 
be  called  the  Christian  religion  !  0  the  mon- 
strous blasphemy  ! 

My  dear  friends,  be  either  entirely  Christians, 
according  to  the  real,  ancient  evangelical  sys- 
tem, or  entireW  rationalists,  and  we  shall  then 


I  know  how  to  act  towards  you.   Remember  Lao- 

I  dicca.  The  midway  is  a  snare  which  Satan  has 

I  placed  for  man. 

Dear  brethren  and  sisters,  let  us  faithfully 
cleave  to  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 

I  and  to  Jesus  Christ  and  his  Spirit ;  and  let  us 
receive  the  Holy  Scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments  as  we  have  them,  and  as  our  sound 
human  understanding  comprehends  them,  as 
our  only  source  of  faith  and  knowledge.  He 
will  come  quickly,  and  will  then  graciously  re- 
gard our  fidelity.  Amen. 

Thou  who  upon  th'  eternal  tnrone 

Dost  weigh  the  fates  of  all  below, 
And  ever  v.  i  ;\v\t  the  radiant  crown 

Of  worlds  iinnumber'd  on  thy  brow: 
Surrounded  by  seraphic  flames, 

And  throned  in  light  of  sevenfold  ray, 
Amidst  thy  servants'  loud  acclaims, 

Disdain  not;  Lord  !  my  humble  lay. 

Hear,  O  ye  heavens  !— thou  earth,  attend  T 

Let  roaring  thunders  silent  be  ! 
That  ye  the  song  may  comprehend 

Which,  Lord,  I  now  will  sing  to  Thee. 
Ye  saints,  who  in  his  courts  reside, 

Lend  me  your  melody  divine, 
That  I  may  praise  my  heavenly  Guide, 

And  He  his  gracious  ear  incline. 

Thou  Love  unspeakable  and  kind, 

The  element  in  which  I  move, 
Behold  with  what  a  flame  refined 

My  heart  burns  in  thy  precious  love  ! 
A  nothing  in  the  dust  was  I  ; 

Yet  thou,  my  All !  mad'st  choice  of  m& 
My  growing  faith  thou  long  didst  try, 

And  my  desires  laid  hold  of  Thee. 

Chosen  thy  guidance  to  display, 

A  witness  of  thy  truth  to  be, 
My  heart  and  all  my  powers  now  say, 

"  My  God,  I  live  and  die  for  thee  !" 
Thee  will  I  faithfully  confess  ; 

O  grant  me  courage,  strength,  and  power* 
And  neither  suffering  nor  distress 

Shall  part  us  in  the  trying  hour. 

Giver  of  every  perfect  gift  ! 

Thou  found'st  me  in  the  lowly  cot, 
And  kindly  from  the  dust  didst  lift 

And  raise  me  to  a  happier  lot. 
For  thou  didst  hear  a  father's  cry  ; 

A  mother's  prayers  touch'd  thy  heart ; 
And  power  and  spirit  from  on  high 

To  me  didst  graciously  impart. 

Upon  the  golden  scales  of  fate 

My  sufferings  thou  didst  nicely  weigh  ; 
Appoint  my  days  their  final  date 

When  I  must  thy  last  call  obey  ; 
Didst  form,  e'en  then,  the  plan  sublime 

Of  what  my  future  course  should  be : 
The  path  didst  show  which  I  must  climb 

To  reach  my  final  destiny. 

An  angel  at  the  Savior's  throne 

Commission  now  received  from  thee  ; 
He  laid  aside  his  pearly  crown, 

And  came  enwrapp'd  in  gloom  to  me. 
Of  mercy  he  unconscious  seem'd  ; 

No  pity  did  his  eye  betray  ; 
Perhaps  by  Thee,  once  fittest  deem'd 

T'  announce  the  awful  judgment-day 

With  all  fidelity  he  led 

Me  through  youth's  wild  and  varied  way  : 
I  followed  him  with  secret  dread, 

And  did  each  gentle  hint  obey. 
Amidst  the  howlings  of  the  blast, 

My  feet  by  the  rude  brambles  rent, 
Through  rocky  clefts  I  toiling  pass'd — 

Thus  painfully  each  day  was  spent. 

A  dubious  glimmer  often  seem'd 

To  terminate  my  arduous  way  ; 
I  hasten'd  on  to  what  I  deem'd 

Would  all  my  weary  steps  repay; 
When,  all  at  once,  my  guide  severe 

Would  tear  me  from  the  path  I  sought, 
And  lead  again,  through  caverns  drear, 

And  rugged  rocks  with  horrors  fraught. 


176  H  E I N  R  I 

A  most  oppressive  load  of  debt 

Weigh'd  on  me  wheresoe'er  I  went ; 
Whilst  gloomy  sadness  ever  met 

Me  with  her  breath  so  pestilent. 
No  cool  and  gentle  eastern  breeze, 

Which  brings  refreshment  as  it  blows — 
No  flowery  fields,  nor  shady  trees, 

Yielded  the  traveller  sweet  repose. 

Thus  did  I  journey  on  my  way, 

Through  many  a  winding  up  and  down, 
When,  suddenly,  a  cheering  ray 

Beam'd  on  my  path — my  load  was  gone 
My  leader  with  a  powerful  arm, 

The  burden  from  my  shoulder  took 
And  with  a  look  that  grief  might  charm, 

He  plunged  it  in  the  flowing  brook. 

Following  the  footsteps  of  my  guide, 

I  walk'd  more  easy,  on  my  way, 
Until,  at  length,  a  brilliant  light 

Announced  the  near  approach  of  day. 


H  STILLING. 

It  came— the  golden  morning  came— 
And  all  my  anxious  fears  were  fled  , 

I  now  have  reach'd  my  blissful  aim, 
And  loudly  shall  my  thanks  be  paid. 

Ye  heavenly  choirs  around  the  thron 

Your  part  in  my  thanksgivings  bear, 
Till  I,  at  length,  the  victor's  crown 

At  the  great  marriage  feast  shall  wear. 
Then,  of  my  golden  harp  possess'd, 

With  you  Jehovah's  name  I'll  praise, 
And  He  shall  clasp  me  to  his  breast, 

Who  led  me  all  my  earthly  days 

Till  then,  let  power  divine  protect, 

And  heavenly  peace  my  spirit  cheer 
My  footsteps,  here  below,  direct, 

Till  I  before  thy  face  appear. 
The  present  seed  I  now  shall  sow 

To  ripen  for  eternity — 
O  let  it  to  perfection  grow, 

Then  take  thy  pilgrim  home  to  thee  , 


STILLING'S   OLD  AGE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

With  the  prospect  of  soon  arriving  at  the  end 
of  my  pilgrimage — at  the  commencement  of  my 
seventy-seventh  year— and  after  having  struggled 
through  a  year  of  bodily  suffering  occasioned  by 
spasmodic  affections,  debility,  a  feeling  of  sacred 
awe,  as  it  were,  thrills  through  me.  The  long  se- 
ries of  the  years  of  my  previous  life  pass  be- 
fore my  soul  like  shadows  on  the  wall ;  and 
the  present  appears  to  me  like  a  great  and  so- 
lemn picture,  covered  with  a  veil,  which  I  shall 
draw  aside  only  when  my  earthly  tabernacle 
reposes  in  the  grave,  and  ripens  for  the  resur- 
rection. Grace,  and  mercy,  and  salvation, 
through  the  atoning  love  of  my  heavenly  Guide, 
will  then  shine  through  my  whole  being  from 
this  picture.    Hallelujah ! 

The  aspect  of  things  around  me  is  now  very 
different  to  that  which  it  presented  when  I  de- 
scribed Heinrich  Stilling's  youth.  My  old  age 
and  my  youth  are  two  very  different  points  of 
view.  I  no  longer  sit  between  sun-dials,  at  the 
oaken  table,  in  the  dark  little  room,  working  at 
a  doublet  for  neighbour  Jacob,  or  sowing  but- 
tons upon  shoemaker  Peter's  Sunday  coat. 
Eberhard  Stilling  no  longer  walks  about,  in  his 
linen  frock,  with  powerful  step ;  and  Margaret 
no  longer  comes  busily  to  fetch  salt  for  the  soup 
from  the  party-colored  box  behind  the  stove. 
The  wheels  of  my  blooming  aunt  no  longer 
whirl  about  the  lamp,  and  the  voice  of  her  song 
has  long  been  mute. 

Uncle  Johann  Stilling  no  longer  comes  to  re- 
late to  his  wondering  auditory  his  new  discove- 
ries in  electricity,  mechanics,  optics,  mathe- 
matics, and  the  like.  No  !  the  aspect  of  things 
around  me  is  now  totally  changed. 

I  now  sit  in  my  convenient  easy-chair,  before 
my  much-used  desk,  and  on  the  walls  around  me 
hang  pledges  to  remind  me  of  near  and  distant 
friends.  My  sorely-tried  and  long  and  heavily 
afflicted  Eliza  totters  about  me,  and  cares  for 
the  present  and  the  future  ;  whilst  my  youngest 
daughter,  Christina,  attends  upon  her  and  exe- 
cutes her  commands.  She  is  the  only  one  of 
my  children  who  is  still  with  me,  and  who  often 
cheers  and  revives  me  by  her  performance  on 
the  harpsichord.  My  daughter  Hannah  lives 
happily  at  Heidelberg  with  her  beloved  Schwarz, 
and  ten  children.    Her  eldest  daughter  is  mar- 


ried to  Professor  Vömel  in  Hanau,  and  has  pre- 
sented me  with  a  great-grandson,  whose  god- 
father I  am.  Her  eldest  son  Wilhelm  was 
head-master  of  the  school  at  Weinhei'm  on  the 
Berg-road,  and  also  assistant  preacher  there ; 
but  he  is  now  here  as  governor  and  tutor  of  the 
only  son  of  Mr.  Von  Berckheim,  our  worthy 
minister  of  state.  The  university  of  Heidel- 
berg gave  him  the  diploma  of  doctor  of  philo- 
phy,  on  account  of  his  diligence,  knowledge, 
and  good  conduct ;  he  also  visits  me  almost 
daily.  My  son  lives  in  Rastadt  with  his  wife 
and  six  children,  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  divine 
blessing.  The  Lord  leads  him  through  painful 
paths,  but  he  passes  through  them  as  becomes 
a  Christian.  His  eldest  daughter  Augusta  is 
also  with  me,  for  the  purpose  of  being  trained, 
in  Madame  Von  Grainberg's  seminary,  to  be- 
come a  modest,  pious,  and  accomplished  young 
female.  She  likewise  contributes  to  cheer  my 
old  and  gloomy  age. 

The  worthy  lady  who  founded  the  institu- 
tion above-mentioned,  Madame  Von  Grainberg, 
having  undertaken  the  education  of  the  two 
grand  ducal  princesses,  and  taken  my  third 
daughter  Amalia,  with  her  to  the  palace,  in  the 
character  of  an  assistant,  my  eldest  daughter 
Caroline  has  now  entered  upon  the  management 
of  the  seminary.  Her  desirable  sphere  of  ac- 
tion cheers  the  evening  of  my  life  ;  and  both 
the  daughters  visit  us,  their  parents,  almost 
daily.  Lastly,  my  second  son  Frederick  also 
spent  the  last  half-year  with  us,  before  com- 
mencing his  career  in  Russia,  as  financier  and 
agriculturist;  his  guitar  and  his  fine  manly 
song  dispel  many  of  my  gloomy  hours.  But  it 
just  occurs  to  me,  that  grandfathers  and  grand- 
mothers grow  very  loquacious  when  the  con- 
versation turns  upon  their  family.  In  order 
therefore  not  to  fall  into  the  commission  of  this 
fault,  I  will  now  return  to  the  subject,  and  take 
up  the  thread  of  the  history  of  my  life  from 
"  Stilling's  Years  of  Tuition." 

On  my  arrival  at  Heidelberg,  in  September 
1803,  I  learnt  that  the  Grand-duke,  at  that  time 
still  Elector  of  Baden,  was  at  Manheim.  I 
therefore  rode  thither  the  next  day,  in  order  to 
announce  my  arrival  to  him  in  person,  and  to 
pay  my  respects  to  him.  He  received  me  very 
graciously,  and  said,  "I  rejoice  at  having  you  in 
my  territories.    From  my  youth  up  I  have  had 


STILL  I  NG'S   OLD  AGE. 


177 


the  desire  to  devote  all  my  powers  to  religion 
and  Christianity  ;  hut  God  having  confided  to 
me  the  office  of  ruler,  I  am  obliged  to  yield  my- 
self up  to  it  entirely.  You  are  the  man  whom 
God  has  prepared  for  this  object.  I  therefore 
free  you  from  all  earthly  obligations,  and  com- 
mission you  hy  your  correspondence  and  au- 
thorship to  promote  religion  and  practical  Chris- 
tianity in  my  place ;  for  this  I  call  you,  and 
take  you  into  my  pay." 

This  was  threfore  my  political  and  legal  call- 
ing to  my  future  vocation,  which  wanted  noth- 
ing but  a  written  confirmation,  which,  howev- 
er, I  did  not  deem  necessary,  well  knowing 
that  no  one  would  have  any  claim  upon  me  on 
that  account. 

I  returned  with  great  inward  peace  of  mind 
to  Heidelberg  ;  for  the  great  and  radical  im- 
pulse, which  I  had  felt  within  me  from  the  cra- 
dle, was  now  satisfied.  A  material  point,  how- 
ever, still  disturbed  my  repose,  notwithstanding 
my  unshaken  confidence  in  riiy  heavenly  Guide  ; 
I  found  every  thing  quite  different  in  Heidelberg 
to  what  I  had  left  it  ten  years  and  a-half  previ- 
ous. Every  thing  was  dear,  and  by  no  means 
cheaper  than  at  Marburg  ;  many  things,  indeed, 
were  even  dearer.  Our  friends  had  written  to 
us,  advising  us  to  sell  our  household  furniture, 
for  we  could  replace  it  in  a  superior  manner  at 
Heidelberg  ;  but  we  found  it  just  the  reverse. 
Our  handsome  furniture  was  sold  in  Marburg 
at  a  low  price,  and  we  were  obliged  to  procure 
in  its  stead  inferior  articles  at  a  higher  rate. 
In  short,  the  removal  from  Marburg  to  Heidel- 
berg, with  the  whole  arrangements  at  the  lat- 
ter place,  cost  me  nearly  a  thousand  guilders. 
I  was  able  to  meet  this  heavy  expence  from 
what  remained  over  from  my  journies  ;  but 
there  was  nothing  left  as  a  resource  for  any  fu- 
ture occasion. 

In  Marburg,  my  yearly  income  was  about  two 
thousand  five  hundred  guilders,  of  which  noth- 
ing remained  over,  notwithstanding  the  strict- 
est economy.    Circumstances,  which  I  cannot 
disclose  or  explain  to  the  public,  considerably 
increased  my  expenditure.    These  circumstan- 
ces continued  almost  entirely  the  same  ;  and 
to  meet  them,  I  had  scarcely  half  the  amount 
of  my  Marburg  income  to  receive.    When,  at 
the  close  of  the  year  1803,  my  wife  and  I  grad- 
ually discovered  and  experienced  this,  and 
found  that  we  could  not  keep  house  in  Heidel- 
berg by  any  means  for  less  than  in  Marburg, 
gloomy  melancholy  lay  like  a  mountain  on  my 
soul  ; — my  reason  spoke  very  lively  and  loudly  : 
Thou  hast  never  before  taken  a  step  towards 
arbitrarily  removing  thyself  out  of  the  situation 
in  which  Providence  had  placed  thee  ;  there- 
fore thy  Heavenly  Guide  helped  thee  power- 
fully through.    But  is  this  now  the  easel  Hast 
thou  neither  directly  nor  indirectly  contributed 
to  the  call  which  the  Elector  of  Baden  has 
given  thee  to  come  hither"!    Was  thy  impulse 
to  work  for  the  Lord  and  his  kingdom  pure  1 
Did  not  the  vain  desire  also  lie  hidden  in  the 
bottom  of  thy  soul,  to  shine  as  a  great  light  in 
the  church  of  God,  and  by  thy  writings  to  be- 
come famous  throughout  the  world  1  And 
finally,  are  there  any  duties  superior  to  that  of 
taking  care  that  thy  wife  and  children  do  not 
fall  into  poverty!    And  canst  thou  answer  for 
exchanging  the  means  which  Providence  had 


given  inio  thy  hands  for  this  purpose,  for  a  sit- 
uation which,  with  all  thy  good  intentions,  and 
good  will,  is  still  enveloped  in  the  obscurity  of 
the  future?"  &c.  All  these  questions  stood 
like  reproving  judges  before  my  soul,  and  I 
could  not  bring  forward  a  single  word  in  my  de- 
fence. What  were  my  feelings  !  I  now  found 
no  other  way  of  escape  than  that  of  the  se- 
verest, strictest,  and  most  impartial  self-exam- 
ination, how  it  stood  with  me  in  reference  to 
all  these  points. 

In  the  course  of  this  examination,  I  found — 
what  all  the  children  of  Adam  find  in  similar 
circumstances — that  whatever  men  undertake, 
and  in  whatever  they  cooperate,  sin  is  inter- 
mingled ;  but  in  the  material  part  of  my  guid- 
ance I  found  nothing  with  which  I  could  re- 
proach myself ;  for  all  the  circumstances  which 
decided  my  spheje  of  action,  and  my  connex- 
ion and  situation  in  Marburg,  unanimously  gave 
me  the  hint  to  withdraw  from  that  station.  But 
that  which  completely  impressed  the  seal  of 
divine  vocation  upon  this  hint,  was,  that  there 
was  a  prince  who  was  just  in  want  of  a  man 
whose  predominating  impulse  was  to  be  active 
for  the  Lord  and  his  kingdom,  and  that  this 
prince  knew  and  loved  this  man, — a  case  which 
is  probably  singular  in  its  kind. 

Even  the  summer  before,  when  the  Elector 
wrote  to  me  that  he  was  then  able  to  offer  me 
twelve  hundred  guilders,  that  I  might  come, 
and  that  he  would  by  degrees  improve  my  cir- 
cumstances, I  informed  him  that  I  could  not 
support  myself  and  my  family  upon  it.  But  as 
nothing  further  transpired,  I  reconsidered  eve- 
ry point  minutely,  and  felt  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  obey  the  call ;  for  I  was  convinced  that  it 
was  the  only  one  I  could  expect  during  the  re- 
mainder of  my  life. 

On  examining  whether  my  impulse  to  work 
for  the  Lord  was  pure,  or  whether  the  vain  de- 
sire did  not  secretly  mingle  with  it  to  become 
celebrated  by  my  writings,  I  found  that  all  our 
best  works  cannot  stand  the  test  in  the  divine 
light;  but  I  found,  likewise,  that  if  vanity  had 
been  my  motive,  I  certainly  should  not  have 
chosen  that  particular  vocation  which  is  the 
most  exposed  to  the  contemjfÄmd  opposition 
j  of  the  great  men  of  the  preserfWge.  After  all 
I  this  had  become  clear  to  me,  providing  for  my 
family  was  no  longer  a  question  with  me ;  for  I 
was  convinced  that  I  had  followed  the  will  of 
my  Heavenly  Guide,  and  therefore  that  troubled 
me  no  longer.  How  gloriously  the  Lord  legiti- 
mated my  confidence,  will  be  shown  in  the  se- 
quel. 

I  employed  the  close  of  the  year  1803  in  ar- 
I  ranging  my  library,  and  with  the  complete  re- 
gulation of  my  escrutoire  and  my  study  ;  but 
j  this  occupation  was  almost  daily  interrupted  by 
I  a  multitude  of  letters  and  visits,  as  well  as  by 
:  ophthalmic  patients.   Thus  I  concluded  the  year 
i  1803,  which  had  been  such  an  important  one 
for  me,  and  began  the  next  by  continuing  the 
history  of  my  life,  under  the  title  of  M  Heinrich 
Stilling's  Years  of  Tuition."    This  work,  toge- 
!  ther  with  the  preparation  of  the  fifteenth  num- 
ber of  the  14  Grey  Man,"  and  a  couple  of  tales 
in  Aschenberg's  Annual,  occupied  me  during 
the  winter,  which  was,  on  the  whole,  a  very 
painful  one  for  me  and  my  family  ;  for  our  Caro- 
j  line  fell  dangerously  ill,  and  our  youngest  daugh- 


178  HEINRICH 

ter,  Christina,  suffered  from  an  abscess  in  the 
left  arm,  which  gave  reason  to  fear  a  caries  in 
the  bone,  which  might  induce  lameness,  and 
even  death  itself.  Caroline  at  length  recover- 
ed ;  but  Christina,  who  was  then  in  her  fifth 
year,  seemed  gradually  to  waste  away,  and  be- 
come consumptive.  My  stock  of  money,  be- 
sides, began  also  to  declins,  and  assistance  was 
therefore  requisite  from  a  higher  quarter.  Nor 
was  this  assistance  delayed  ;  for  towards  the 
end  of  the  month  of  March,  I  received  a  letter 
from  a  very  estimable  lady  in  Upper  Lusatia,  in 
which  she  called  upon  me  to  go  thither,  since 
there  were  many  poor  blind  people  and  such  as 
suffered  in  their  eyes,  who  required  my  pre- 
sence ;  the  travelling  expences  would  be  repaid, 
and  I  should  find  on  the  way,  two  hundred  dol- 
lars (three  hundred  and  sixty  guilders)  for  my 
expenses. 

We  thanked  the  Lord  for  this  continuance  of 
his  gracious  guidance,  and  began  to  prepare  for 
this  long  journey  ;  for  Herrnhut,  or  rather  Gör- 
litz, whither  I  was  invited,  is  eighty  German 
miles,  or  one  hundred  and  sixty  leagues  distant 
from  Heidelberg. 

The  first  duty  incumbent  upon  me  was  to  in- 
form the  Elector  of  my  intended  journey.  I 
therefore  rode  to  Carlsruhe,  where  I  spent  some 
agreeable  days  in  his  society.  On  this  occasion 
he  commissioned  me  to  speak  with  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Moravian  Conference  at  Berthols- 
dorf,  for  he  was  very  desirous  of  having  a  set- 
tlement of  the  brethren  in  his  territories.  I 
then  took  leave  of  him,  and  returned  to  Heidel- 
berg. 

Although  our  friend  Julia  Richerz  undertook, 
with  true  maternal  fidelity,  the  care  of  our  two 
little  girls,  yet  it  was  painful  to  us  both,  and 
particularly  to  my  wife,  to  leave  the  little  suf- 
ferer, Christina,  for  so  many  weeks.  Howev- 
er, it  could  not  be  avoided ;  for  on  account  of 
my  age  and  my  frequent  spasmodic  attacks,  I 
could  not  travel  alone. 

We  commenced  our  journey  on  the  3rd  of 
April,  1804,  in  our  own  carriage  with  post- 
horses.  The  weather  was  extremely  agreea- 
ble ;  at  Heidelburg,  and  along  the  Berg  road, 
the  almond  aÄpeach-trees  were  arrayed  in  the 
richest  bloomy  all  nature  seemed  to  smile  upon 
us,  and  announce  a  pleasant  journey.  But  we 
were  deceived  ;  for  in  the  afternoon,  when  wfe 
came  within  view  of  the  distant  Feldberg,  be- 
tween Darmstadt  and  Frankfort,  I  saw  it  was 
still  covered  half-way  down  with  snow,  and  that 
the  Wetterau  mountains  were  also  enveloped 
in  this  wintry  garb  ;  I  consequently  began  to  be 
apprehensive,  for  I  was  acquainted  with  the 
road  to  Herrnhut,  having  travelled  thither  be- 
fore.   We  arrived  in  the  evening  at  Frankfort. 

It  must  be  a  matter  of  great  indifference  to 
the  reader  of  the  evening  of  my  life,  what  befel 
us  at  each  posting-house  from  one  day  to  ano- 
ther. In  short,  it  was  a  wearisome  journey  ; 
spasms  in  the  stomach  within,  and  continual 
danger  from  the  weather  and  bad  roads  from 
without,  were  the  order  of  the  day.  There 
were  occasionally,  however,  days  of  cheering 
and  vernal  weather ;  seldom,  indeed,  but  so 
much  the  more  agreeable  and  invigorating.  It 
follows  of  course,  that  the  two  hundred  dollars 
were  wailing  for  us  in  the  way. 

During  this  journey,  we  spent  a  few  days  at 


STILLING. 

Cassel,  one  at  Eisenach,  and  one  and  a-half  at 
Erfurth ;  and  at  length  we  arrived,  in  the  eve- 
ning of  the  19th  of  April,  at  Kleinwelke,  a  Mo- 
ravian settlement,  near  Bautzen  in  Upper  Lu- 
satia. 

The  sphere  of  operation  to  which  I  was  called 
by  this  journey  commenced  here ;  a  crowd  of 
blind  people,  and  such  as  were  diseased  in  the 
eye,  came  about  me,  and  I  attended  to  them, 
in  weakness,  as  much  and  as  well  £s  I  was 
able. 

On  the  23rd  we  left  Kleinwelke  for  Herrnhut, 
where  we  fixed  our  quarters  at  the  congrega- 
tional lodging-house,  and  were  immediately  vis- 
ited by  various  dear  friends.  At  Herrnhut, 
we  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  brotherly  love  in  all 
their  plenitude,  and  the  Lord  also  gave  me  the 
opportunity  of  effecting  much,  and  of  being  of 
service  to  many  sufferers. 

I  also  laid  before  the  Moravian  conference  at 
Berthoisdorf  the  wish  of  the  Elector  of  Baden, 
to  have  a  Moravian  settlement  in  his  domin- 
ions ;  but  as  they  were  just  on  the  point  of  es- 
tablishing a  settlement  at  Konigsfeld  in  the 
Black  Forest,  in  Würtemburg,  near  the  borders 
of  Baden,  the  Elector's  wish  could  not  be  grant- 
ed, for  two  reasons  ; — first,  because  the  estab- 
lishment of  such  a  settlement  is  very  expen- 
sive ;  and  secondly,  because  Konigsfeld  being 
situated  near  the  borders  of  Baden,  a  second 
station  in  the  vicinity  would  be  superfluous.  It 
is,  however  pleasing  to  notice,  that  some  years 
afterwards,  by  an  exchange  of  territory,  Ko- 
nigsfeld came  under  the  dominion  of  Baden,  and 
thus  Charles  Frederick's  pious  wish  was  event- 
ually fulfilled. 

We  remained  at  Herrnhut  till  the  9th  of  May, 
and  then  rode  five  leagues  further  to  Görlitz, 
whither  I  was  called  by  various  ophthalmic  pa- 
tients, 

Görlitz  is  an  extremely  agreeabte  and  very 
flourishing  town.  It  lies  on  a  beautiful  and  fer- 
tile plain,  which  is  terminated  towards  the  east 
by  a  rocky  declivity,  adjoining  the  little  river 
Neisse.  On  this  rock  stands  the  sumptuous 
church  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  which  is  cele- 
brated for  its  large  and  astonishing  organ,  its 
great  bell,  and  its  subterranean  crypt.  It  is  a 
glorious  sight  to  see  the  sun  rising  over  the 
giant  mountains,  from  this  place.  Towards  the 
south-west,  at  some  little  distance,  stands  the 
hill  called  Landskrone,  quite  isolated.  From 
this  point  of  view  it  does  not  appear  very  high, 
although  it  is  visible  from  every  part  of  Lusa- 
tia, from  any  eminence.  The  reason  is,  be- 
cause the  whole  land  is  high  in  this  part. 

Görlitz  was  also  interesting  to  me  on  another 
account.  The  celebrated  Jacob  Böhme  was  a 
master-shoemaker  and  citizen  of  this  place ; 
and  it  was  extremely  affecting  to  me,  to  find 
his  memory  still  so  much  cherished,  and  its  in- 
fluence so  beneficial.  The  inhabitants  of  Gor-' 
litz  esteem  it  an  honour  that  Böhme  was  a 
townsman  of  theirs,  although  it  is  now  two  hun- 
dred years  ago  since  he  lived  there,  and  was 
undeservedly  aud  basely  ill-treated  by  the  cler- 
gy of  those  times,  especially  by  Gregorius  Rich- 
ter, one  of  the  chief  preachers.  Böhme  incul- 
cates nothing  in  his  writings  contrary  to  the 
Augsburg  Confession;  he  went  diligently  to 
church,  and  frequently  received  the  sacrament. 
In  his  manner  of  life  he  was  blameless  ;  a  faith- 


STILLING' 

ful  subject,  an  exemplary  husband  and  father, 
and  a  kind  neighbour  ;  this  was  well  known  in 
Görlitz,  and  yet  the  proud  priesthood  treated 
him  as  an  arch-heretic.  One  morning,  Böhme 
went  on  some  errand  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Richter ; 
but  scarcely  had  he  entered  the  door,  when 
Richter  seized  a  slipper,  and  threw  it  at  the 
head  of  the  good  shoemaker  ;  the  latter  quietly 
picked  it  up,  and  laid  it  again  at  the  clergy- 
man's feet.  On  Bohme's  decease  in  1624,  the 
clergy  would  not  suffer  him  to  be  buried  in  the 
churchyard.  The  case  was  referred  to  the  high 
consistory  court  at  Dresden,  and  the  corpse  was 
obliged  to  be  kept  until  the  decision  returned, 
which  ordered  that  Bohme's  corpse  should  be 
interred  with  all  the  honours  due  to  a  good 
Christian,  and  that  the  whole  of  the  clergy 
should  attend  the  funeral.  This  was  done  ;  but 
the  clergy  accompanied  the  procession  only  as 
far  as  the  gate  of  the  town,  when  their  worships 
turned  back  again.  The  churchyard  lies.on  the 
north  side  of  the  town.  I  had  Bohme's  grave 
pointed  out  to  me ; — it  is  covered  with  a  small 
square  hewn  stone,  on  which  is  inscribed  the 
year  in  which  Böhme  was  born,  his  name,  and 
the  year  in  which  he  died.  A  private  teacher 
of  respectability  in  Görlitz,  related  to  me,  that 
taking  a  walk  one  day,  he  had  seen  two  Eng- 
lishmen at  this  tomb,  emptying  their  snuff-box- 
es, and  filling  them  with  earth  from  Bohme's 
grave.  This  had  induced  him  to  lay  a  new 
stone  upon  it,  in  place  of  the  old  one,  of  which 
scarcely  anything  remained. 

We  enjoyed  much  friendship  in  this  agreea- 
ble town,  and  I  had  opportunity  enough  of  ren- 
dering service  to  the  afflicted.  After  a  six 
days'  residence,  we  left  Görlitz  for  Niesky,  a 
considerable  Moravian  settlement,  in  which  is 
the  seminary  where  young  people  are  prepared 
and  formed  for  the  ministry.  Here  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  several  excellent  and  learned 
men,  and  also  with  other  interesting  members 
of  the  Moravian  church,  who  showed  us  much 
affection  and  friendship. 

The  day  following,  I  rode  a  few  leagues  into 
the  country,  to  perform  the  operation  for  the 
cataract  on  a  blind  person  of  rank.  I  saw  at  a 
distance  before  me  the  mountain  called  the 
Schneekuppe,  the  highest  peak  of  the  Giant 
range.  I  think,  however,  that  the  Blauen,  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  Black  Forest,  is  still  higher 
than  either  the  Brocken  or  the  Schneekuppe ; 
and  yet  these  mountains  are  but  hills  compared 
with  the  Alps  of  Switzerland. 

In  the  afternoon  I  returned  to  Niesky,  where 
we  lodged  at  the  congregational  hotel,  as  is 
customary  in  all  the  Moravian  settlements.  I 
am  unwilling  to  detain  the  reader  with  all  the 
visits  paid  and  received,  and  with  all  the  opera- 
tions and  ophthalmic  cures  performed  here ;  it 
would  only  be  a  reiteration  of  what  occurred  at 
every  place  I  came  to;  I  shall  insert  only  one 
remark.  Lusatia  has  a  very  peculiar  constitu- 
tion. It  consists  entirely  of  large  manorial  es- 
tates, which  are  called  state  properties,  and 
their  noble  possessors  statesmen.  Berthoisdorf 
is  a  manor  of  this  kind  ;  but  it  now  belongs  to 
the  Moravian  community,  which  chooses  its 
states-man  out  of  its  own  members,  amongst 
whom  there  are  always  several  noblemen 
There  are  six  towns  which  belong  to  Lusatia, 
the  principal  of  which  are  Bautzen  and  Görlitz ; 


S  OLD  AGE.  179 

and  these  six  towns  have  also  their  peculiar  lib- 
erties and  privileges. 

The  subjects  of  these  manors  are  all  of  them 
Wends  ;  that  is,  descendants  from  the  ancient 
Vandals,  who  acted  such  a  conspicuous  part  at 
the  migration  of  the  northern  tribes.  They  all 
profess  the  christian  religion,  but  still  retain 
their  original  language,  although  they  almost  all 
speak  and  understand  German.  There  are  still 
also  churches  in  which  the  Wend  language  is 
used  in  preaching.  Vassalage  prevails  through- 
out the  country. 

The  day  following  we  received  an  invitation 
from  the  lord  and  lady  of  a  neighbouring  manor, 
to  spend  a  few  days  with  them,  in  order  that  I 
might  operate  upon  an  old  blind  woman  in  their 
own  house.  We  therefore  rode  in  the  after- 
noon to  this  delightful  mansion.  In  the  evening, 
the  countess  took  me  by  the  arm,  and  led  me 
through  hilly  nurseries,  at  the  end  of  the  vil- 
lage, into  a  little,  mean,  but  cleanly  and  well- 
kept  peasant's-  cottage,  where  we  found  an  old 
blind  woman  sitting  upon  a  chair  in  the  dark- 
ened room. 

"  Good  evening,  aged  mother,"  said  the 
countess  ;  "  God  has  here  sent  you  a  friend, 
through  whom  He  will  restore  you  to  sight." 

The  woman  started  up  from  her  chair,  strove 
to  come  towards  us,  stretched  out  her  hands, 
and  exclaimed,  with  tears,  "  Where  are  you, 
divine  angel  V  The  countess  kissed  her  cheek, 
and  said,  "Sit  down,  good  mother!  I  have 
brought  you  something  you  must  take  to-mor- 
row, and  the  day  after  I  will  bring  you  this 
friend,  who  will  open  your  eyes."  I  also  spoke 
some  friendly  and  consoling  words  to  the  old 
woman,  and  then  we  returned  home.  On  the 
morning  of  the  day  appointed,  I  again  went 
thither  with  the  countess,  and  performed  the 
operation  on  the  woman.  I  then  presented  her, 
with  her  eyes  re-opened,  to  the  countess, — but 
such  scenes  are  altogether  indescribable.  It 
was  a  faint  image  of  that  interview  I  shall  soon 
experience,  when  I  shall  appear  before  Him,  as 
a  poor  sinner,  naked  and  bare,  and  shall  then 
behold  Him,  with  open  face,  as  He  is.  The 
countess  embraced  the  delighted  woman  with 
tears  of  joy,  after  which  we  again  set  off  for 
Niesky.  It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  the 
patient  enjoyed  all  due  attention.  But  the  good 
countess  had  now  another  affair  at  heart,  which 
was,  how  she  could  put  into  my  hands,  in  a  ten- 
der and  feeling  manner,  the  two  hundred  dol- 
lars she  had  destined  for  me  as  a  reward  for  the 
operation  ;  and  this  also  she  accomplished  in  a. 
masterly  manner. 

Blessed  art  thou  now,  thou  sorely-tried  ancf 
glorified  friend,  who  wast  perfected  through 
suffering !  Rest  sweetly  in  the  arms  of  thy 
Redeemer,  till  we  again  see  each  other. 

It  is  a  Very  correct  remark,  that  subjects  can 
never  be  happier  than  when  they  are  vassals  of 
such  excellent  masters. 

We  continued  nine  days  at  Niesky ;  and 
when  my  business  was  ended,  we  travelled 
back  to  Kleinwelke,  where  we  arrived  in  the 
evening  of  the  24th  of  May. 

I  again  found  much  to  do  there,  so  that  I 
was  obliged  to  remain  until  the  19th.  On  that 
day  wejeturned  to  Herrnhut,  in  order  to  be 
present  at  the  conference  of  the  preachers,  to 
which  I  had  been  invited. 


180  HEINRICH 

It  was  just  fifty  years  since  Bishop  Reichel 
had  instituted  this  meeting  ;  and  the  venerable 
old  man  was  still  living,  so  that  he  was  also 
able  to  join  in  the  celebration  of  the  jubilee  of 
this  preacher's  conference.  On  the  30th  of 
May,  a  great  number  of  preachers,  belonging  to 
both  the  Protestant  confessions  from  all  the 
neighbouring  provinces,  assembled  at  Herrn- 
hut. On  this  occasion  there  were  about  seven- 
ty of  them.  No  preacher  is  rejected,  and  it  is 
of  no  importance  whether  he  is  in  connexion 
with  the  Moravian  church  or  not.  Persons  of 
other  ranks  are  not  admitted  unless  by  particu- 
lar favor,  except  the  states  men  ;  for  it  is  ne- 
cessary that  the  latter  be  acquainted  with  what 
their  preachers  undertake  or  conclude  upon,  in 
order,  if  needful,  to  render  them  their  advice 
or  assistance.  Admission  is  also  granted  to  a 
few  students  of  divinity.  They  assemble  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  open  the  sitting 
with  singing  and  prayer,  and  then  consult  to- 
gether, not  so  much  upon  scientific  subjects  as 
upon  their  official  duties,  the  life  and  walk  of 
the  preachers  and  members  of  the  church,  and 
especially  upon  the  maintaining  of  the  pure  doc- 
trine of  practical  Christianity. 

Letters  are  received  at  this  conference  of 
preachers,  not  only  from  every  province  in  Eu- 
rope, but  also  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  It 
being  impossible  to  read  all  these  in  one  day, 
the  most  important  of  them  are  selected,  read 
aloud,  consulted  upon,  and  afterwards  answer- 
ed. The  transactions  of  the  day  are  committed 
to  paper,  and  these  minutes  are  then  communi- 
cated to  the  foreign  members  and  friends  of  the 
Moravian  church. 

The  jubilee  rendered  the  conference  that 
year  particularly  interesting.  The  two  bishops, 
Reichel  and  Rissler,  who  had  labored  many 
years  with  Zingendorf,  and  had  travelled  in 
Asia,  Africa,  and  America,  in  the  service  of  the 
Lord,  were  present.  The  first,  as  the  peculiar 
founder  of  the  institution,  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Baumeister  of  Herrnhut,  opened  the  sitting  with 
brief  addresses  full  of  unction.  It  is  necessary 
to  have  heard  such  men,  in  order  to  pronounce 
a  judgment  upon  religious  eloquence. 

At  noon,  the  whole  company  is  decorously, 
moderately,  but  abundantly  entertained  at  the 
congregational  hotel,  at  the  expense  of  the  com- 
munity ;  and  the  next  morning,  all  the  gentle- 
men take  their  departure. 

We  also  left  Herrnhut  on  the  same  day,  and 
travelled  by  way  of  Kleinwelke,  Ponnevvitz, 
Königsbrück,  and  Herrnsdorf,  to  Dresden,  in 
consequence  of  having  been  very  kindly  invited 
by  the  lords  of  the  manor  at  those  places.  We 
passed  a  night  at  each  of  them,  and  arrived  at 
Dresden  on  the  4th  of  June,  at  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  There  we  spent  the  day,  visited 
our  friends,  and  continued  our  route  the  next 
morning.  I  was  detained  in  Würzen  and  Leip- 
zig, by  cataract  and  ophthalmic  patients  ;  which 
was  likewise  the  case  in  Erfurth  and  Cassel. 
There  I  learnt,  with  astonishment,  that  the 
Elector  had  given  a  vocation  to  my  son-in-law 
Schwarz,  to  become  Professor  of  Divinity  at 
Heidelberg,  and  that  he  had  accepted  the  call. 
To  this  I  had  not  contributed  in  the  smallest 
dpgree  ;  for  I  had  made  it  a  most  inviolable  law 
never  to  make  use  of  the  influence  I  might  have 
in  my  present  connexion  with  the  Elector,  to 


STILLING. 

recommend  any  one,  and  least  of  all  my  own 
children  and  relatives.  However,  it  was  to  me 
a  suhject  of  infinite  importance  and  adoration, 
that  a  gracious  Providence  should  conduct  my 
two  eldest  married  children,  with  their  families, 
into  my  immediate  vicinity,  and  provide  lor  them 
so  reputably. 

At  Marburg,  where  I  was  likewise  obliged  to 
remain  a  few  days,  I  was  visited  by  Schwarz, 
in  order  to  relate  to  me  the  circumstances  of  his 
nomination,  on  which  occasion  we  conversed 
with  great  earnestness  upon  his  important  voca- 
tion. From  this  place  we  continued  our  journey, 
without  stopping,  till  we  reached  Heidelberg, 
where  we  arrived  in  the  evening  of  the  4th  of 
July,  in  health  as  it  respects  the  body,  and  blessed 
in  our  souls.  We  were  met  at  Weinheim  by  our 
children  from  Manheim  and  Heidelberg,  where 
we  also  found  our  daughter  Christina  recovered, 
and  in  health.  All  this  incited  in  us  the  most 
lively  thanksgivings  to  our  Heavenly  Guide. 

During  the  whole  of  this  tedious  and  danger- 
ous journey,  which  lasted  a  quarter  of  a  year, 
Providence  had  so  graciously  guided  and  pre- 
served us  that  not  the  smallest  accident  had  be- 
fallen us  ;  and  were  I  fully  to  relate  all  the 
benefits  and  blessings  which  we  had  enjoyed, 
and  could  relate  all  the  edifying  conversations 
and  the  heavenly  intercourse  with  so  many 
favoured  children  of  God  of  all  ranks,  it  might 
serve  as  a  matter  of  edification  to  many  read- 
ers ;  but  modesty  on  my  part,  and  the  possibili- 
ty of  pitiful  censure  on  the  other,  make  it  my 
duty  to  be  silent  upon  the  subject.  This  I  can 
however  assert,  that  this  journey  was  extreme- 
ly conducive  to  the  instruction  and  restoration 
of  us  both. 

Our  residence  at  Heidelberg  was  not  at  this 
time  of  long  duration.  The  Elector,  who  was 
still  at  Schwetzingen,  sent  for  me  from  time  to 
time,  in  the  court  equipage,  to  dine  with  him. 
One  day  he  said,  during  dinner,  "Dear  friend, 
I  shall  now  soon  go  to  Baden  ;  you  must  ac- 
company me  -thither  for  a  few  weeks,  for  I 
gladly  have  you  near  me."  I  replied,  "  As  your 
Electoral  Highness  commands."  But  in  reality 
I  was  alarmed,  for  where  should  I  find  the 
money  to  reside  for  several  weeks  at  such  a 
much-frequented  bathing-place"!  The  journey 
had  certainly  produced  me  a  few  hundred  guild- 
ers, but  these- 1  required  for  the  time  to  come, 
and  the  following  winter.  However,  I  immedi- 
ately took  courage ;  and  my  old  motto,  which  had 
been  so  often  my  rod  and  my  staff — "  The  Lord 
will  provide" — tranquillized  my  mind.  After 
dinner,  the  prince  took  me  into  his  cabinet, 
and  gave  me  three  hundred  guilders,  with  the 
words.  "This  is  for  your  residence  at  Baden." 

My  occupation  now  consisted  in  carrying  on 
my  extensive  correspondence  ;  in  writing  "  The 
Grey  Man,"  and  "The  Christian  Philanthro- 
pist," as  well  as  in  attending  to  many  cataract 
and  ophthalmic  patients,  who  daily  came  to  me 
for  aid. 

The  21st  of  July  was  the  time  fixed  for  my 
departure  for  Baden.  I  therefore  took  with  me 
our  friend  Julia,  my  wife,  the  little  Christina, 
and  my  niece  Maria  to  wait  upon  us  ;  for  the 
baths  were  very  salutary  to  my  wife,  to  Julia, 
and  the  delicate  Christina.  We  fixed  our  quar- 
ters at  the  lodging  and  bathing-house,  whilst 
our  daughter  Caroline  continued  the  housekeep 


ST  IL  LING'S   LAST  HOURS. 


181 


ing  in  Heidelberg,  with  the  two  little  ones, 
Frederick  and  Amalia,  and  the  servants. 

Baden  is  a  very  ancient  place,  and  was  very 
much  frequented  even  during  the  time  of  the 
Romans,  for  its  baths.  It  lies  in  a  beautiful 
valley,  and  is  an  extremely  agreeable  abode.  It 
is  seven  leagues  distant  from  Karlsruhe,  and 
two  from  Rastadt.  The  valley  takes  its  direc- 
tion from  the  south-east,  and  runs  towards  the 
north-west;  through  it  flows  the  little  river 
Ohss,  which  is  of  some  importance,  particularly 
for  floating  wood.  The  horizon  is  bounded  by 
the  lofty  indented  mountains  of  the  Black  Forest, 
at  whose  feet,  on  both  sides  of  the  valley,  fruit- 
ful hdls  delight  the  eye,  covered  from  the  top  to 
the  bottom  with  fields,  vineyards,  and  gardens. 
On  the  southern  side  of  one  of  these  hills,  to- 
wards the  north,  the  town  extends  itself;  upon 
its  summit  stands  the  castle,  which,  before  the 
building  of  Rastadt,  was  inhabited  by  the  Mar- 
grave of  Baden. 

Through  the  wide  opening  of  the  valley  to- 
wards the  north-west,  the  eye  surveys  the  lovely 
plains  of  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden  and  the 
luxuriant  Alsace,  whilst  in  the  blue  distance  the 
romantic  Vogesen  mountains  rise  to  view,  and 
the  majestic  river  Schein  winds  through  this 
spacious  valley,  like  a  broad  silver  ribbon  thrown 
over  a  variegated  flowery  meadow.  In  the 
height  of  summer,  when  the  sun  goes  down  be- 
hind the  Vogesen,  and  illumines  the  valley  of 
Baden  as  far  the  lofty  mountains  in  the  back- 


ground, it  presents  a  sight  which  may  be  justly 
deemed  one  ol  the  greatest  beauties  of  nature. 
It  must  be  seen,  for  it  is  impossible  to  describe 
it.  In  other  respects,  the  air  is  here  so  balmy 
and  pure,  that  many  come  hither  merely  to 
breathe  it,  without  using  the  baths. 

My  readers  will  easily  believe  me  upon  my 
word,  that  I  was  not  one  of  the  customary 
visitors  of  the  baths,  who  only  come  thither  to 
make  themselves  merry  once  a  year ;  for  every 
description  of  sensual  taste  finds  there  oppor- 
tunity enough  to  indulge  itself. 

I  occupied  myself,  just  as  at  home,  with 
writing  letters,  literary  labours,  and  ophthalmic 
cures ;  but  did  not  neglect,  when  the  weather 
permitted,  daily  to  ramble  out  in  this  garden  of 
God,  in  order  to  listen  to  the  pervading  voice 
of  eternal  love  which  is  not  obvious  to  every 
one.  By  degrees  a  circle  of  good  men  formed 
itself,  in  which  we  felt  at  ease,  and  who  shared 
with  us  in  the  pure  enjoyment  of  nature. 

I  here  wrote  the  first  "  Pocket-book  Annual," 
for  1805,  which  contains  the  totally-unlike  por- 
trait of  the  Elector.  The  latter  mostly  resided 
about  two  leagues  from  this  place,  at  the  "  Fa- 
vorite," a  very  pretty  country-seat,  where  I 
visited  him  from  time  to  time. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  month  of  August, 
there  was  occasion  for  another  journey.  The 
old  blind  clergyman,  Faber,  at  Gaissburg  in  the 
I  vicinity  of  Stuttgard,  desired  me  to  perform  the 
i  operation  upon  him.     *      *      *      *  * 


STILLING'S  LAST  HOURS. 

BY  HIS  GRANDSON,  W.  H.  E.  SCHWARZ. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  life  of  Johann  Heinrich  Jung,  surnamed 
Stilling,  private  Aulic  Counsellor  to  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Baden,  Doctor  of  Philosophy  and  Medi- 
cine, and  member  of  many  learned  societies, 
which  was  so  abundantly  blessed  in  its  mani- 
fold labors,  has,  by  his  own  account  of  it,  been 
long  made  known  to  the  public,  and  is  regarded 
by  every  believer  as  a  striking  instance  of  the 
paternal  guidance  of  Divine  Providence.  In  the 
following  pages,  we  propose  giving  only  the 
principal  features  of  the  last  scenes  of  his  life, 
which  terminated  on  the  2d  of  April,  1817,  in 
order  to  give  the  world  a  new  proof  how  a  Chris- 
tian may  glorify  God  by  his  faith,  even  unto 
death. 

The  venerable  old  man,  whose  eldest  grand- 
son I  have  the  honour  to  be,  and  in  whose 
vicinity  circumstances  had  fortunately  placed 
me  for  a  year  previous  to  his  death,  began,  at 
the  commencement  of  1816,  in  the  seventy- 
seventh  year  of  his  age,  sensibly  to  feel  the 
diminution  of  his  constitutional  powers,  which 
had  been  previously  so  strong  and  healthy. 

It  was  with  mournful  anxiety  that  his  children, 
grandchildren,  friends,  and  admirers,  observed 
the  increasing  debility  of  their  beloved  friend 
and  parent ;  and  many  a  prayer  ascended  from 
far  and  near,  to  heaven,  for  the  prolongation  of 
his  mortal  life.  God  answered  them  in  his  wis- 
dom ;  for  He  stÜFered  him  to  remain  as  a  bless- 1 


ing  on  earth,  for  a  longer  season  than  we  could 
have  expected  from  existing  circumstances. 

An  excursion  of  pleasure,  to  visit  his  children 
at  Heidelberg  and  the  neighbouring  places,  and 
later  in  the  summer,  a  similar  one  to  Baden  and 
his  children  in  Rastadt,  appeared  to  have  re- 
stored strength  to  his  constitution  ;  and  in  the 
course  of  that  summer  he  was  still  enabled  to 
restore  sight  to  seventeen  blind  persons  ;  but  s 
he  was  incessantly  troubled  with  painful  spa^ 
modic  attacks,  together  with  his  general  de- 
bility, and  suffered  besides  this  from  a  pain  in 
the  side,  w7hich  he  himself  ascribed  to  a  fall  he 
had  experienced  some  time  before  from  a  coach, 
and  an  organic  defect  which  had  been  thereby 
produced,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  keep- 
ing his  bed  during  the  whole  winter  of  1816-17. 
Notwithstanding  the  most  invigorating  reme- 
dies, which  were  administered  in  order  to  alle- 
viate his  sufferings,  his  strength  decayed  more 
and  more.  From  that  time,  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  continue  his  correspondence  ;  he  mere- 
ly gave  instructions  for  replying  to  letters  of  the 
most  importance ;  but  at  length,  even  dictating 
became  too  difficult  for  him  in  his  illness,  and 
no  more  answers  could  be  given. 

Yet  this  was  not  the  only  thing  that  troubled 
him,  since  he  was  well  persuaded  of  the  indul- 
gence of  those  who  addressed  him  by  letter  ; — . 
he  had  the  pain  of  seeing  his  consort,  who  had 
suffered  for  a  series  of  years  from  jugular  con- 
I  tractions,  attacked  by  a  violent  pectoral  disor- 


182  HEINRICH 

der  and  ulcers  in  the  lungs.  The  venerable 
couple  bore  their  afflictions  with  the  most  cheer- 
ful resignation  to  the  will  of  divine  Providence  ; 
but  whilst  the  view  of  their  painful  sufferings 
rent  the  hearts  of  their  children  and  their  friends, 
their  example  inspired  them  at  the  same  time 
with  fortitude. 

Father  Stilling's  vital  powers  seemed  occa- 
sionally to  recover  themselves,  and  at  such 
times  he  endeavoured  to  proceed  with  his  prin- 
cipal labours ;  but  his  hands  soon  succumbed 
under  bodily  weakness.  It  was  in  these  more 
vigorous  hours  that  he  began  to  write  his  "  Old 
Age,"  and  was  able  to  prepare  it  for  the  press 
as  far  as  the  preceding  fragment  extends. 

His  strength  did  not  suffer  him  to  write  more, 
and  he  forbade  the  continuation  of  it.  That 
which  he  relates  in  it  of  his  old  age,  is  indeed 
sufficient  to  make  the  reader  acquainted  with 
his  final  outward  circumstances,  and  cause  him, 
at  the  same  time,  to  admire  the  strength  of 
mind  which  continued  his  constant  attendant 
upon  his  sick-bed,  and  bore  his  soul,  even  at  his 
last  breath,  towards  heaven.  The  little  which 
we  shall  here  notice  of  the  remainder  of  his  life, 
must  not  be  considered  as  a  continuation  of  his 
biography,  but  as  a  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the 
Christian  faith,  and  at  the  same  as  a  fulfilment 
of  the  wishes  of  many  friends,  who  desire  to 
know  the  particulars  of  his  last  hours. 

He  said,  with  joy,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
winter,  on  receiving  the  last  volume  of  his 
"  Scripture  Narratives"  and  his  "  Casket"  from 
the  press,  "  I  have  still  been  able  to  complete 
my  '  Scripture  History  !' "  Towards  Christmas, 
our  honoured  father's  weakness  and  the  illness 
of  his  dear  consort  increased  to  such  a  degree, 
that  we  could  no  longer  entertain  hopes  of  re- 
taining either  of  them  for  any  length  of  time. 
They  both  now  divested  themselves  of  every 
earthly  care  which  they  might  still  have  had  upon 
their  hearts,  for  those  they  were  about  to  leave, 
and  were  ready  for  their  departure.  However, 
Heaven  was  still  willing  to  grant  us  their 
presence  for  some  months  longer;  for  at  the 
commencement  of  the  year  1817,  they  again 
attained  more  strength,  so  that  they  were 
occasionally  able  to  continue  out  of  bed  for  a 
^ime. 

™  The  venerable  old  man  had  previously  often 
said  to  his  consort,  who  was  concerned  for  him 
even  on  her  dying-bed,  "  It  is  all  the  same  to 
me  how  it  comes,  whether  I  am  able  to  con- 
tinue my  labors  or  not ;  I  am  prepared  for  every 
thing."  And  this  entire  submission  to  the  will 
of  his  heavenly  Father  he  continually  manifest- 
ed ;  and  hence  he  exclaimed,  in  a  fit  of  pain 
occasioned  by  his  violent  spasmodic  attacks, 
"  God  has  guided  me  from  my  youth  up,  by  a  par- 
ticular providence ;  I  will  not  be  dissatisfied  now, 
but  glorify  him  also  in  my  sufferings." 

During  the  whole  period  of  his  confinement 
to  his  bed,  his  thoughts  were  incessantly  direct- 
ed to  subjects  connected  with  the  kingdom  of 
God.  These  were  his  favorite  topics  of  con- 
versation with  his  partner,  his  children,  and  his 
friends  ;  and  hence  he  read  with  indescribable 
satisfaction  Kanne's  work,  entitled  "  Lives,  and 
Extracts  from  the  Lives  of  Awakened  Chris- 
tians," and  Schubert's  "Antiquities  and  Novel- 
ties of  Superior  Psychology  ;"  and  he  observed 
on  one  occasion,  "  These  men  are  selected  by 


STILLING. 

Providence  to  be  important  instruments  in  trie 
present  century."  After  having  finished  the 
perusal  of  Blumhardt's  Magazine  of  the  most 
recent  intelligence  of  the  Protestant  Bible  and 
Missionary  Societies  (Basle,  1817),  on  our  con- 
versing together  upon  the  pleasing  progress  of 
the  kingdom  of  God  in  modern  times,  he  said, 
"  See,  my  dears ;  it  is  a  pleasure  and  recrea- 
tion to  me  in  my  old  age,  whilst  I  am  lying 
thus,  to  hear  of  the  further  extension  of  the 
Christian  religion." 

In  this  kind  of  occupation,  in  the  perusal  of 
other  religious  books,  and  edifying  himself  from 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  which  always  lay  near  him, 
and  from  spiritual  poetical  compositions,  he 
passed  his  time,  which,  as  he  said,  never  seem- 
ed long  to  him. 

It  was  only  occasionally  that  his  strength 
permitted  him  to  converse  with  us ;  and  if 
friends  came  at  such  favorable  moments  who 
were  desirous  of  speaking  with  him,  he  was 
able  to  comply  with  their  wishes.  At  these 
times  he  always  conversed  in  the  same  cheer- 
ful manner  as  had  rendered  him  at  all  times  so 
amiable  in  social  life.  On  such  occasions,  he 
was  fond  of  speaking  of  his  youthful  life ;  and 
frequently  spoke  to  a  female  friend,  with  pecu- 
liar pleasure,  of  his  relatives  in  the  provinces  of 
the  Lower  Rhine.  But  if  any  one  expressed 
satisfaction  at  his  improving  state  of  health,  he 
would  not  listen  to  it ;  and  when  a  young  friend 
once  said  to  him,  she  hoped  that  the  more  fa- 
vorable weather  in  the  spring  would  impart 
new  vital  strength  to  him,  he  replied,  "  Oh,  do 
not  tell  me  anything  of  the  kind ;  for  I  do  not 
wish  my  friends  to  deceive  themselves."  And 
he  often  mentioned  to  his  physician  that  he  felt 
his  end  approaching. 

His  chief  recreation  was,  as  it  had  always 
been,  song  and  music  ;  and  whilst  young  friends 
sang  in  accordance  with  his  feelings,  tears  of 
pleasure  would  escape  him.  Having  been  for 
some  weeks  unable  to  lie  any  longer  in  the  same 
apartment  with  his  suffering  consort,  because 
her  disorders  required  a  different  temperature, 
he  visited  her  daily  for  some  time  ;  on  which 
occasions  he  was  led  to  the  bedside  of  the  suf- 
ferer, and  at  last  rolled  thither  in  an  arm-chair. 
It  was  then  delightful  to  listen  to  their  edifying 
discourse. 

Even  as  from  his  youth  up,  by  his  life  and 
conversation,  and  his  numerous  writings,  as 
well  as  in  the  astonishing  acquaintance  and 
knowledge  which  he  had  acquired  with  so 
much  industry  in  every  department  of  science, 
he  at  all  times  proved  what  the  Apostle  Paul 
says, — that  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  sur- 
passes all  other  knowledge.  He  confirmed  this, 
as  we  were  speaking  with  each  other  upon  the 
effects  of  his  writings,  and  said  to  us,  "  Yes,  all 
knowledge,  all  ability  for  writing,  all  reputation, 
and  the  like,  is  obtained  merely  through  cir- 
cumstances, according  to  the  will  of  God  ;  and 
no  man  will  be  either  interrogated  or  judged 
according  to  them,  when  he  stands  before  the 
throne  of  God.  But  it  is  the  application  of 
them,  and  the  little  portion  of  humility  and  faith 
which  the  individual  possesses,  which  the  grace 
of  God  will  regard  as  acceptable."  He  like- 
wise said  on  one  occasion  to  his  youngest  son, 
that  "  He  was  grieved  that  he  had  not  devoted 
more  time  in  his  life  to  drawing  and  manual  oc- 


STILLING'S  LAST  HOURS. 


183 


cnpations ;"  for  in  such  things  he  possessed 
particular  ability. 

We  might  have  adduced  many  expressions 
which  had  reference  to  his  love  of  activity  and 
his  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  did  we  not  fear  being 
too  prolix.  It  is  also  universally  known  that 
our  venerable  father  Stilling,  in  his  life  and 
writings,  praised  and  glorified  the  Redeemer 
alone,  and  was  chosen  as  a  distinguished  instru- 
ment of  divine  grace,  together  with  many  other 
able  men,  to  be  a  great  support  of  the  church  in 
the  age  of  a  falsely-enlightened  infidelity.  His 
company  was  always  cheering,  instructive,  and 
edifying,  and  continued  so  till  the  hour  of  his 
departure. 

However,  as  the  vernal  season  approached, 
the  illness  of  the  venerable  couple  increased. 
But  both  of  them,  in  their  willingness  to  suffer, 
and  in  their  confidence  in  the  Lord,  sought  with 
great  self-denial  to  hide  from  their  family  their 
sufferings  and  decay.  We  perceived,  never- 
theless, the  approach  of  the  mournful  period 
that  soon  followed.  After  his  faithful  com- 
panion's ulcerated  lungs,  in  defiance  of  all  the 
remedies  which  had  been  administered,  had  at- 
tained to  complete  suppuration,  and  oppression 
and  debility  had  increased  to  the  highest  de- 
gree, she  gently  and  blissfully  fell  asleep  in  the 
Lord,  on  the  22nd  of  March,  1817.  Two  days 
previously,  the  venerable  old  man,  clearly  per- 
ceiving by  his  medical  knowledge  that  her  end 
was  fast  approaching,  after  having  repeated  to 
her  some  beautiful  verses  out  of  Gellert's  and 
Paul  Gerhard's  hymns,  "Unto  the  Lord  com- 
mend thy  way,"  &c.,  took  leave  of  her  with  the 
words,  "  The  Lord  bless  thee,  thou  suffering 
angel !  The  Lord  be  with  thee  1"  And  when 
he  heard  of  her  decease,  he  calmly  folded  his 
hands,  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  sighed,  and 
ejaculated,  "Thank  God  she  has  finished  her 
«ourse  !"  After  this,  he  likewise  lived  more  in 
the  other  world,  and  prferred  being  left  to  him- 
self more  than  before,  clearly  conscious  that 
the  departure  of  his  consort  was  also  for  him 
the  first  step  of  transition.  Hence  he  said  to 
us,  when  we  were  lamenting  her  decease  in  his 
presence,  "  This  cannot  be  so  painful  to  me  as 
it  is  to  you ;  since  I  hope  so  soon  to  see  her. 
again."  And  that  was  fulfilled  for  which  he 
prayed  many  years  before,  on  the  19th  Novem- 
ber 1790,  in  the  ode  he  composed  on  his  third 
nuptials,  and  which  both  had  foreboded,  name- 
,ly- 

"  Father,  until  our  journey  s  end 
Conduct  us  hand  in  hand." 

His  debility  increased,  although  his  spirit  al- 
ways remained  animated  like  that  of  a  young 
man,  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  and  as  the 
lively  look  of  his  eye  testified,  which  continued 
open  and  bright  to  his  last  breath.  Hence  he 
\vas  able,  only  a  few  days  before  his  end,  to 
speak  a  few  words  of  encouragement  to  the  no- 
ble daughter  of  an  illustrious  female  friend, 
previous  to  her  confirmation,  and  also  to  dis- 
course briefly  with  her  illustrious  son  and  noble 
sister.  He  also  spoke  upon  several  subjects 
with  other  acquaintances  ;  and  said  once  to  an 
old  friend,  and  to  his  second  daughter,  amongst 
other  things,  "  Listen  ;  I  have  something  of 
importance  to  tell  you,  relating  to  psychology  ; 
I  have  completely  the  feeling  as  if  I  possessed 
a  two-fold  personality  ;  one  spiritual,  the  other 


corporal.  The  spiritual  hovers  over  the  ani- 
mal. Both  are  in  a  state  of  warfare  in  man  ; 
and  it  is  only  by  the  mortification  of  all  sensual 
desire  that  he  can  attain  to  their  entire  separa- 
tion^ not,  indeed,  by  his  own  power,  but  by  de- 
nying himself,  with  the  Divine  assistance." 

All  other  discourse  but  such  as  had  reference 
to  God  and  his  plan  of  salvation  was  onerous 
to  him  and  therefore  he  said  "  that  he  had  not 
spent  a  weary  moment  on  his  sick-bed,  until 
after  the  death  of  his  wife  ;  since  which,  time 
seemed  long  to  him."  For  the  deceased,  by 
her  self-sacrificing  love  and  anxiety  for  him,  as 
well  as  by  her  sympathy  even  in  the  smallest 
things  which  concerned  him,  had  become  indis- 
pensable to  him  as  the  partner  of  his  life  and 
the  friend  of  his  soul.  She  overflowed  with 
tenderness  even  towards  the  children  of  his 
former  marriage,  and  was,  generally  speaking, 
a  pattern  of  human  kindness  and  gentleness, 
of  self-denial  and  humility,  and  was  therefore 
truly  invaluable  to  him.  Hence  he  longed  so 
much  the  more  to  reach  his  home,  and  to  be 
elevated  above  all  earthly  thoughts  and  cares. 
His  debility  daily  increased  ;  and  having  had, 
for  the  last  half-year,  an  invincible  repugnance 
to  substantial  food  of  every  kind,  of  which  the 
efforts  of  the  most  able  physicians  and  all  the 
care  of  his  friends  were  unable  to  divest  him, 
and  as  the  water  now  rose  in  his  chest,  it  was 
easy  to  foresee  that  the  dear  man  would  only 
continue  a  few  days  longer  as  a  living  pattern 
amongst  us.  In  this  situation  he  said  to  a  fe- 
male friend,  "  It  will  soon  be  over!"  And  on 
her  replying  "  Ah,  how  happy  you  are,  in  being 
able  to  say  this!"  he  answered  in  a  friendly 
tone,  "  Well,  I  am  glad  that  you  acknowledge 
it." 

When  we  learned  that  his  end  was  so  near, 
we  took  courage  in  our  affliction,  and  sought  to 
take  advantage  of  every  moment  of  his  remain- 
ing with  us,  for  our  edification  and  establish- 
ment in  faith.  For  if  ever  his  society  produced 
this  blissful  influence,  it  was  so  on  his  dying- 
bed,  where,  with  the  most  astonishing  consid- 
eration and  calmness,  he  awaited  the  moment 
of  his  departure,  which  he  probably  perceived 
beforehand  to  the  very  hour,  and  in  which,  by 
his  filial  resignation  to  the  Divine  disposal,  as  a 
true  hero  of  the  faith,  he  glorified  God  in  the 
mortal  conflict,  who  strengthened  him  for  it,  and 
afterwards  beatified  him.  His  end  was  an  ob- 
vious proof  of  the  truth  of  the  christian  faith  ; 
for  no  mere  deist  or  rationalist,  but  the  Chris- 
tian alone,  is  able  to  resign  his  breath  with  that 
spiritual  fortitude  and  all  that  consciousness 
which  the  departed  saint  retained  with  every 
recollection  to  his  latest  breath  ;  and  with  that 
seriousness  with  which,  although  so  far  ad- 
vanced in  the  divine  life,  he  represented  to  him- 
self his  near  dismission,  with  the  tranquillity 
and  cheerfulness  consequent  upon  it,  which  ir- 
radiated his  dignified  countenance. 

Hence  the  honor  of  his  life  and  sentiments, 
and  the  cause  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  calls  upon 
me  publicly  to  state  to  the  world  the  particulars 
of  his  last  hours,  together  with  the  most  im- 
portant expressions  he  made  use  of  in  the  full 
possession  of  consciousness,  according  to  the 
testimony  of  all  present,  as  well  as  that  of  his 
estimable  physician,  in  order  that  all  the  glory 
may  be  given  to  God. 


184 


HEINRICH  STILLING. 


When  he  saw  that  his  dissolution  was  no 
longer  at  a  distance,  he  desired  that  all  his  chil 
dren  should  assemble  around  him  ;  and  the 
latter  were  able  to  arrange  their  affairs  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  afford  themselves  this  last  plea- 
sure.   Yet  still  the  idea  troubled  him,  lest  their 
official  duties  should  be  forgotten  for  his  sake  ; 
and  hence  he  said  to  them,  on  seeing  them  re- 
main longer  with  him  than  usual,  "You  are 
staying  too  long  ;  you  are  neglecting  too  much  ; 
attend  to  your  incumbent  duties  ;"  for  however 
gladly  he  had  them  about  him,  he  could  not 
endure  it,  when  it  seemed  to  him  that  they  ne- 
glected the  business  of  their  vocation.  After 
they  had  pacified  him  on  this  point,  he  suffered 
one  of  his  children  to  be  continually  with  him 
at  his  bed-side.    He  had   previously  dlways 
used  a  bell  in  order  to  call  those  of  his  family 
who  were  in  attendance  in  the  anteroom,  since 
he  was  fond  of  being  alone.    He  also  spoke 
with  each  of  his  children  of  things  which,  on 
their  account,  were  still  at  his  heart.    His  fre- 
quent inquiries  about  the  time,  proves  that  du- 
ring the  last  two  da)Ts,  in  the  frequent  attacks 
of  disease,  the  time  seemed  long  to  him,  and 
that  he  longed  for  his  heavenly  habitation.  In 
the  night  between  Palm-Sunday  and  the  Mon- 
day following,  he  spoke  much  to  his  youngest 
son,  who  was  watching  by  him,  respecting  his 
approaching  dissolution,  which  he  had  not  done 
before  ;  and  believing  his  end  to  be  near,  even 
at  that  time,  he  said  to  him,  towards  day-break, 
"  Now  go  and  call  the  family."    However,  his 
strength  returned  in  some  measpre,  and  he 
smoked  a  pipe,  as  he  did  also  the  day  before  his 
decease.    But  the  water  in  the  pleura  caused 
him  much  uneasiness,  after  the  pain  in  his 
side  and  the  spasmodic  attacks  had  for  some 
weeks  disappeared ;  he  was  therefore  obliged 
to  breathe  and  groan  aloud,  and  with  difficulty ; 
and  cough  frequently  ;  but  all  this  passed  away, 
the  day  preceding  his  dissolution.    He  spoke 
very  little,  and  only  in  broken  sentences,  but 
always  in  perfect  consciousness  ;  he  also  slept 
little,  although  he  frequently  closed  his  eyes  ; 
for  he  immediately  opened  them  when  any  one 
moved,  or  the  door  was  opened. 

On  that  day,  and  even  previously,  as  well  äs 
on  the  following  day,  he  was  probably  much 
occupied  in  thought,  with  proofs,  objections, 
counter-proofs,  and  refutations  of  the  doctrine 
of  immortality  and  of  the  Christian  faith  ;  this 
was  apparent  from  his  uneasiness  in  sleeping 
and  waking,  and  from  the  broken  words  and 
sentences  which  he  uttered  on  these  subjects  ; 
for  he  constantly  saw  near  him  in  a  dream— as 
is  also  related  of  St.  Martin — a  black  man,  who 
harrassed  him,  and  occupied  and  disturbed  his 
active  spirit  ;  seemingly  as  if  evil  spirits  sought 
still  to  trouble  him  upon  his  dying-bed,  and  even 
to  cause  to  him  to  swerve  from  the  faith  ;  for 
he  said  while  asleep,  "  Tell  me,  my  dear  chil- 
dren, who  is  that  black  man  there,  who  is  con- 
tinually tormenting  me }  Do  not  you  see  him  ?" 
He  had  dreamed  some  days  before,  as  he  told 
his  daughter  the  day  following,  that  the  black 
man  said  to  him,  "  Come  with  me  ;"  but  that 
he  had  answered,  "No,  1  will  not  :  go  away  !" 
But  all  these  temptations  were  overcome  the 
day  before  his  end,  on  which  his  uneasiness 
was  succeeded  by  a  profound  tranquillity  and 
solemnity.    He  also  thus  expressed  himself  on 


this  subject  to  his  third  daughter  :  "  I  believe  I 
have  fought  the  mortal  conflict ;  for  I  feel  as 
much  alone  as  if  I  were  in  a  desert,  and  yet  in- 
wardly so  comfortable  !"    But  on  their  express- 
ing their  opinion  that  he  would  have  no  farther 
struggle  with  death,  and  on  asking  him  respect- 
ing it,  he  replied,  "No,  there  is  many  a  little 
trial  to  sustain."    And  that  the  Christian  con- 
templates the  near  approach  of  death  neither 
with  levity  nor  presumption,  is  evident  from 
what  he  expressed  on  the  subject  to  his  second 
daughter; — when  she  was  conversing  with  him 
during  this  period  on  the  subject  of  death,  he 
said,  "  Dying  is  an  important  affair,  and  no 
trifle  ;"  and  on  another  occasion,  "  Futurity  is 
a  wonderful  thing."    From  whence  it  appears 
that,  even  to  the  man  who  has  labored  with  all 
his  powers,  and  in  every  possible  direction,  for 
the  honor  of  the  Most  High,  and  to  whom  futu- 
rity was  able  to  present  itself  in  the  fairest  col- 
ors—that even  to  him,  the  transition  into  the 
life  to  come,  and  the  account  so  soon  to  be 
rendered,  appeared  supremely  solemn  and  im- 
portant.    Being  wont  to  speak  aloud  in  his 
sleep  during  the  whole  of  his  life,  it  was  also 
now  the  case ;  and  as  he  awoke  occasionally, 
he  said  to  his  second  daughter,  "  Since  the 
death  of  my  wife,  I  do  not  feel  at  home,  and 
talk  nonsense  in  my  sleep."    But  on  her  reply-' 
ing,  "No — on  the  contrary,  what  you  say  is  only 
edifying;"  he  said,  "  Indeed  ! — that  is  truly  a 
divine  favor  !"    He  frequently  expressed  his 
anxiety  lest  he  should  say  anything  improper 
during  his  slumbers ;  for  he  wished  only  to 
speak  and  suffer  for  the  glory  of  his  Lord. 
Thus  I  heard  him  make  use  of  no  other  than 
devotional  expressions  when  asleep,  such  as, 
"God  has  guided  me  with  unspeakable  kind 
ness  ;"  "The  Lord  bless  you  ;"  "  We  must  be 
very  cautious  in  examining  into  the  meaning 
of  a  subject,  lest  we  fall  into  error  ;"  and  sim- 
ilar phrases. 

When  his  weakness  increased,  his  frequent 
talking  in  his  sleep  ceased ;  and  when  awake,, 
he  spoke  less  by  words  than  by  friendly  looks. 
When  he  observed  how  every  one  vied  in  wait- 
ing upon  him,  he  frequently  said,  "  Dear  angels, 
cause  you  so  much  trouble."    Thus  he  said 
also,  "  0  children,  I  am  so  affected  by  your  un- 
exampled love  ; — however,  I  could  wish,  for 
your  sakes,  not  to  die  in  the  paroxysm  of  my 
complaint ;"  for  he  experienced  a  frequent  re- 
petition of  violent  attacks  of  his  disorder,  which 
was  occasioned  by  water  in  the  pleura,  his 
disease  having  terminated  in  that  painful  disor- 
der; and  hence  he  said  to  us  more  than  once, 
"  There  is  something  melancholy  in  being  suf- 
focated, but  there  is  perhaps  a  necessity  for  it." 
Near  his  bed,  which  was  fixed  in  his  study,  from 
whence  so  many  blessings  for  the  world  had, 
emanated,  and  which  being  adorned  with  sub- 
lime paintings,  engravings,  and  memorials,  re- 
sembled a  sanctuary,  he  had  constantly  beauti- 
ful flowers  standing  in  pots.    His  looks  linger- 
ed with  particular  pleasure  upon  these,  and  on 
Miiller's  engraving  of  Raphael's  Madonna,  which 
hung  upon  the  wall  opposite  him. 

He  said  also,  whilst  conversing  with  his 
youngest  son,  who  had  the  care  of  his  flowers, 
"  See,  dear  boy,  the  pretty  flawers  ;"  they  were 
hyacinths,  narcissuses,  and  violets  ;  and  round 
about  them  the  pretty  children's  heads.    In  the 


STILLING'S   LAST  HOURS. 


185 


night  between  the  last  day  of  March  and  the  first 
of  April,  he  said  many  things  to  me  respecting 
my  dear  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters,  in  Hei- 
delberg, as  well  as  upon  other  topics,  and  my 
office  as  a  preacher.  He  then  requested  a  glass 
of  fresh  water,  which  he  drank  with  particular 
pleasure,  his  parched  gums  languishing  more 
and  more  for  refreshing  liquids;  and  he  praised 
this  draught  of  water  the  next  day  to  his  two 
youngest  daughters,  saying,  "  No  one  can  form 
an  idea  of  the  pleasure  I  had,  last  night,  when 
drinking  a  glass  of  fresh  water.  When  nature 
returns  to  her  pure  state,  and  partakes  of  water 
and  wine,  it  is  the  best  thing  the  individual  can 
take,  if  the  spasms  will  permit  it."  And  hence 
he  said,  soon  after,  "  The  most  simple  food  is 
requisite  for  man  in  his  first  and  last  days ; 
water  and  milk  is  the  beginning  and  the  end.'' 

Towards  day-break,  he  called  to  his  youngest 
son,  to  fill  his  pipe,  which  he  seemed  to  relish. 
The  same  morning,  being  the  first  of  April, 
whilst  his  children  were  with  him,  and  another 
of  my  brothers  was  with  us,  of  whom  on  his 
arrival  the  evening  before  he  had  enquired  after 
the  welfare  of  the  family,  he  exhorted  us  as 
follows  ;  "  Dear  children,  be  diligent  in  the  true 
fear  of  God!  People  often  think  they ,  do 
enough  if  they  only  occasionally  attend  church 
and  sacrament ;  but  true  religion  consists  in  en- 
tire resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  and  in  con- 
tinual intercourse  with  Him,  and  in  prayer  !" 

Hereupon,  as  his  second  daughter  requested 
him  to  intercede  in  heaven,  together  with  his 
beatified  consort,  for  his  family  ;  he  answered 
in  his  simple  way,  "We  must  first  see  what 
the  usage  is  in  yonder  world ;— we  will  then 
pray  for  you." 

He  then  repeated  the  following  verses  from 
the  Halle  Hymn-Book.— Hymn  xi.  v.  22. 

"Those  blading  wounds  which  Jesus  bore, 

My  refuge  are,  my  only  boast ; 
Through  these  with  joy  to  heaven  I'll  soar, 

And  mingle  with  the  heavenly  host." 

And  on  hearing  his  third  daughter  ask  her 
sister  where  these  words  were  to  be  found,  he 
gave  the  Halle  collection  of  spiritual  songs, 
which  was  lying  near  him,  to  his  second  daugh- 
ter, directed  her  to  search  and  mark  out  some 
of  the  most  beautiful  hymns,  and  enjoined  her 
to  let  her  children  in  the  seminary  learn  to  sing 
them  well  in  choir,  and  said,  "  Learn  plenty  of 
texts  and  verses  by  heart ;  they  will  be  found 
to  be  of  service."  At  the  same  time  he  recom- 
mended her  always  to  let  the  church  hymns  be 
sung  in  the  genuine  and  simple  church  melodies, 
without  any  thing  of  an  artificial  nature  ;  for  he 
loved  that  which  was  simple  and  sublime,  even 
in  church  matters.  He  afterwards  said  to  her, 
as  the  conversation  turned  upon  certain  friends, 
"Write  to  the  dear  people,  and  say  that  I 
thought  much  about  them  in  my  last  days, — that 
I  loved  them,  and  that  we  should  eventually  find 
sufficient  subjects  for  conversation."  He  also 
subsequently  said  concerning  them,  "They  are 
beloved  of  the  Lord." 

That  day,  which  was  Tuesday  the  1st  of 
April,  many  friends  still  came  to  see  him,  and 
to  be  witnesses  of  the  cheerfulness  and  solem- 
nity with  which  the  venerable  old  man  endured 
his  sufferings  through  the  power  of  faith.  And 
every  heart  was  elevated  to  heaven  at  the  sight ; 
and  the  wish  eventually  to  die  a  similar  chnst- 
A  a 


ian  death  produced  many  new  and  ardent  re- 
solves to  glorify  God  upon  earth  by  a  life  well- 
pleasing  to  Him. 

And  then,  when  father  Stilling  saw  his  friends 
looking,  or  coming  in  through  the  half-open 
door,  which  stood  immediately  opposite  his  eye, 
he  testified  his  love  for  them  by  a  friendly  nod, 
and  if  at  the  moment  he  felt  a  little  accession 
of  strength,  he  spoke  a  few  words  to  one  and 
another  of  them.  At  the  same  time  his  cheer- 
fulness, which  had  been  an  invariable  attraction 
to  every  one,  never  forsook  him.  On  observing 
a  female  friend  looking  through  the  door,  he 
jocosely  said,  "  Madame  Von  R —  is  peeping 
through  the  key-hole  !"  Another  female  friend 
came  towards  noon,  and  grateful  for  the  ac- 
quaintance she  had  mad^with  him  by  the  grace 
of  God,  she  spoke  of  the  beautifully  pure  mind 
which  the  Lord  had  given  him,  on  which  he  an- 
swered, "  Oh,  you  must  not  praise  me  !"  He  af- 
terwards mentioned  to  the  same  individual,  that 
whilst  reflecting  upon  the  whole  period  of  his  life, 
which,  as  he  himself  said,  was  long,  but  ap- 
peared to  him  as  a  dream,  "  I  had  once  in  my 
youth  a  little  flute,  which  fell  upon  the  ground, 
and  was  broken,  on  which  I  wept  for  two  days 
together  ;  and  it  cost  only  sixpence  ; — but  money 
was  scarce  in  those  days ;"  and  then  con- 
tinued, "  Tell  me,  what  have  the  critics  been 
able  to  effect  against  me  ]  Whatever  they 
wrote,  availed  nothing!"  About  this  time,  he 
sent  for  me,  and  inquired  whether  the  jubilee  of 
the  Reformation  festival  would  be  celebrated 
that  year;  on  my  telling  him  I  was  convinced 
that  no  solemnity  would  be  neglected  as  regard- 
ed that  important  festival,  he  replied,  "  Yes,  I 
have,  in  fact,  heard  something  of  it,"  and  was 
satisfied  respecting  it. 

At  dinner-time,  he  wished  to  be  again  left 
alone,  and  spoke  little  or  nothing;  his  distress- 
ing sensations  had  also  at  that  time  passed  away, 
and  cheerful  repose  glistened  in  his  large  and 
intelligent  eyes. 

The  watches  which  hung  near  him  he  had 
wound  up  himself  to  this  time,  and  had  also 
counted  his  jewels,  &c,  in  the  drawer  of  the 
little  table  which  stood  near  him  ;  for  his  love 
of  order,  which  had  been  of  such  service  to  him 
in  his  numerous  occupations,  did  not  leave  him 
to  the  last  moment ;  for  even  then,  he  was 
anxious  to  take  the  mixtures  and  medicines,  for 
which  he  always  asked  at  the  precise  period, 
which  he  frequently  refused  when  presented  to 
him  earlier.  He  also  directed  the  faded  flow- 
ers to  be  exchanged  for  fresh  ones,  which  he 
was  able  to  call  by  their  proper  names,  and  had 
them  placed  on  his  table.  In  the  afternoon,  he 
again  asked  for  his  pipe,  and  was  calm  and 
cheerful.  His  lips  being  swollen,  he  requested 
a  glass  pipe  to  drink  out  of,  and  directed  where 
it  was  to  be  shortened,  in  consequence  of  being 
found  too  long.  He  was  well  pleased  with  this 
mode  of  drinking,  and  said  jocosely,  "When 
using  the  glass  tube,  the  douaniers  in  the  neck 
do  not  perceive  it." 

Towards  evening  he  again  fell  asleep,  on 
which  account  it  was  impossible  to  gratify  manjf 
of  his  friends  who  desired  once  more  to  see  him 
whom  they  so  much  esteemed,  because  the  fre- 
quent moving  of  the  door  disturbed  him. 

Once,  on  awaking,  he  said  to  his  daughters 
who  were  present,  "  I  always  think  it  is  morn- 

$ 


186  HEINRICH 

ing.  In  the  next  world  there  will  be  an  eternal 
day." 

On  his  second  daughter's  presenting  him  with 
-a  nosegay  from  her  pupils,  all  of  whom  he  lov- 
ed inexpressibly,  with  the  words,  "  Dear  father, 
the  children  send  you  these  flowers:"  he  re- 
plied in  his  usual  cordial  tone,  "  The  dear  chil- 
dren !  They  are  also  like  the  tender  flowers, 
which  voluntarily  unfold  themselves  to  the  rays 
of  the  sun." 

Towards  six  o'clock,  he  stated  to  his  friendly 
physician  all  his  complaints,  and  even  began  a 
conversation  with  him  upon  the  goodness  of  the 
water  of  the  Herrnbrunnen  in  Baden-Baden. 
His  eldest  son  from  Rastadt  soon  afterward  ar- 
rived, in  order  to  see  his  venerable  parent  once 
more.  He  could  not  immediately  receive  him, 
on  account  of  the  paroxysm  under  which  he  was 
suffering  ;  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  he  called  him 
to  him,  and  as  the  former  was  speaking  of  the 
happy  exit  of  his  deceased  mother,  he  replied, 
"  Observe,  we  cannot  exactly  say  how  it  is  with 
her ;  she  has  endured  to  the  end,  and  I  must  still 
either  labor  on,  or  suffer  on  !  "  Of  a  friend 
who  had  seen  him  only  the  day  before,  he  spoke 
with  much  respect  and  affection,  and  said,  "  I 
have  had  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  him, 
and  have  spoken  much  with  him  on  theosophi- 
cal  subjects,  the  whole  extent  of  which  he  had 
investigated,  on  which  occasions  I  learnt  to 
know  his  heart."  Subsequently,  I  said  to  him, 
u  These  May-flowers,"  which  stood  upon  his 
table,  "  are  much  too  beautiful ;"  on  which  he  re- 
plied, in  his  cheerful  way, "  Nothing  is  too  beau- 
tiful for  me  !"  And  on  his  second  daughter's 
saying  to  him  afterwards,  "  Yes,  dear  father, 
you  will  soon  see  much  more  beautiful  things 
than  these!"  he  rejoined,  "That  cannot  be 
known,  it  must  be  felt."  He  subsequently  said, 
"  I  love  you  all  so  dearly,  and  yet  it  is  so  easy  to 
part  with  you."    On  his  eldest  son's  replying. 

The  reason  is,  because  you  love  the  Lord  so 
much  more  ;"  he  answered,  "Yes,  that  is  it." 
He  also  said  afterwards  to  the  former,  "  Be 
steadfast  in  faith  ;  it  has  never  misled  me ;  it 
will  also  guide  thee  faithfully,  and  by  it  we  will 
all  abide."  He  then  said,  "continue  in  love, 
you  dear  angels  !"  And  on  his  third  daughter's 
replying,  "  You  are  our  angel,  dear  father  1  " 
he  answered,  "We  will  be  so  reciprocally  !" 
Meanwhile  the  night  approached,  and  he  fre- 
quently laid  himself  in  a  sleeping  posture,  and 
generally  speaking,  his  whole  frame  was  tran- 
quil. As  soon  as  he  awoke,  and  found  occasion 
and  power  to  speak,  he  did  so.  Thus  he  once 
said,  "If  our  Redeemer  had  only  that  to  drink 
*which  I  have,  it  would  have  done  him  good  ; 
but  they  gave  him  vinegar  to  drink,  stretched 
out  their  tongues  at  him,  and  mocked  him,  and 
yet  he  said,  'Father,  forgive  them,  they  know 
not  what  they  do  ! '  This  was  the  mightiest 
prayer  that  ever  was  uttered."  And  on  this  he 
prayed,  "  Father,  if  it  be  thy  holy  will  that  I 
should  longer  remain  here,  give  me  strength  and 
I  will  gladly  still  labor  and  suffer."  His  third 
daughter  afterwards  said,  "  How  it  grieves  me 
to  see  you  lie  there  and  suffer  so  much  !"  To 
which  he  replied,  "  Do  not  always  speak  so  ; 
our  Lord  was  stretched  out  in  a  very  different 
manner."  Later,  on  observing  us  all  about  him, 
and  mournful  looks  fixed  upon  him,  he  said,  "  If 
you  still  wish  to  say  any  thing  to  me,  do  so." 


STILLING. 

When  the  watch-light  was  brought,  which  he 
generally  sent  for  about  the  time  of  falling 
asleep,  he  said,  "  I  do  not  require  it ;  I  travel 
the  whole  night."  He  subsequently  continued, 
"  When  a  person  belongs  to  the  christian  church, 
not  only  must  man  and  wife,  but  all  the  children 
also,  agree  in  one  point ;  and  that  is  dreadfully 
difficult." 

Towards  morning,  he  had  the  following  dream, 
which  he  related  on  awaking,  to  his  eldest  son 
and  his  third  daughter.  "  I  felt  myself  actively 
engaged,"  said  he,  "  with  my  late  consort  in  do- 
mestic affairs  ; — the '  Grey  Man '  afterwards  ap- 
peared to  me — but  not  the  one  in  the  Nostalgia 
— and  conducted  me  into  heaven,  and  said  to 
me  that  I  need  not  trouble  myself  in  the  least 
about  my  wife,  with  whom  it  went  well ;  he 
himself  had  conducted  her  from  one  stage  of  per- 
fection to  another ;  but  that  I  must  still  wait." 
He  afterwards  expressed  himself  as  follows ; 
"  Oh,  I  feel  such  an  indescribable  peace  of  soul, 
which  you  cannot  perceive  in  consequence  of 
my  bodily  wretchedness."  Meanwhile  his  weak- 
ness increased,  and  it  was  difficult  for  him  to 
speak  in  continuance,  his  voice  having  already 
lost  its  power ;  hence  he  made  frequent  use  of 
broken  expressions,  such  as  "  A  complete  resig- 
nation to  the  Lord,"  &c,  and  would  often  have 
gladly  continued,  had  his  weakness  permitted. 

But  his  serenity  and  solemnity  of  feeling  rose 
to  a  still  higher  degree,  and  we  could  only  pray 
in  his  presence.  It  was  then,  on  feeling  him- 
self sufficiently  strong,  that  he  uttered  an  inter- 
cessory prayer,  in  which  he  besought  God  "  to 
preserve  all  his  children  in  the  faith  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  to  keep  them  as  branches  in  the 
vine,  that  he  might  find  them  after  thousands  of 
years  bound  together  as  in  one  bundle." 

Soon  after,  towards  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  same  day,  being  Ash-Wednesday,  the 
2nd  of  April,  feeling  that  his  end  was  approach- 
ing, and  that  he  was  going  to  the  Father,  and 
in  the  consciousness  that  he  was  sufficiently 
strong  for  a  last  and  solemn  act,  he  collected  us 
all  around  him,  inquiring,  with  his  wonted  kind- 
ness, whether  we  had  any  ojection  to  his  pres- 
ent intention  of  partaking  of  the  sacrament  with 
us ;  and  after  his  eldest  son  had  removed  his 
scruples  respecting  it,  since  at  that  time  of 
the  night  the  only  clergyman  of  the  Reformed 
Chnrch  (there  being  at  that  time  no  evangelical 
church-union  existing),  who  was  also  a  venera- 
ble old  man,  could  not  be  sent  for,  and  having 
received  our  heartfelt  consent  and  our  thanks 
for  his  patriarchal  intention,  he  made  us  kneel 
down,  uncovered  his  head,  folded  his  hands,  and 
prayed  with  all  the  power  of  the  spirit  and  of 
faith — which  even  still  expressed  itself  in  his 
voice — to  the  following  effect :  "  Thou,  who 
didst  shed  thy  blood  for  us  on  the  cross,  and 
didst  overcome  death  and  hell;  who  didst  even 
there  forgive  thy  enemies;  thou  divine  Media- 
tor, forgive  us  also  now,  whilst  venturing  in  our 
weakness  upon  this  solemn  act,  which  we  other- 
wise would  not  have  undertaken." 

He  then  took  the  plate,  on  which  he  had  bro- 
ken in  pieces  the  bread,  held  his  hands  cross- 
wise over  it,  pronounced  the  usual  form  of  ben- 
ediction, and  continued,  "  And  thou,  0  Lord, 
bless  this  element  of  bread."  On  which  he  said, 
"  Take,  eat ! — this  is  His  body,  which  was  given 
up  to  death  for  our  sins." 


STILLIN  G'S  LAST  HOURS. 


187 


Inwardly  affected  by  the  dignified  action  of 
the  pious  old  man,  thus  celebrating  with  his 
family,  even  on  his  dying  bed,  the  bond  of  love, 
the  sacred  supper,  we  partook  of  the  consecra- 
ted food.  And  after  he  had  expressed  the  wish 
that  his  Heidelberg  children  had  also  been  with 
us,  he  took  his  ordinary  goblet  instead  of  the 
cup,  crossed  his  hands  over  it  in  the  same  man- 
ner, gave  thanks,  and  said,  according  to  the 
words  of  the  institution,  "Drink  ye  all  of  it; — 
this  is  the  cup  of  the  new  covenant  in  His  blood, 
which  was  shed  for  you  and  for  many,  and  in 
the  end  for  all,  for  the  forgiveness  of  sins !" 
And  having  himself  partaken  of  it  the  last,  he 
stretched  out  his  hands  to  bless  us,  and  exclaim- 
ed, "  The  Lord  be  with  you  !" 

And  after  having  terminated  this  solemn  and 
exalted  act,  as  a  Christian  patriarch  on  his  dy- 
ing bed,  and  according  to  pure  evangelical  prin- 
ciples;— which  he  would  not  have  undertaken 
had  there  not  been  a  necessity  for  it,  because 
he  honored  and  followed  order,  usage,  and  cus- 
tom in  all  things — he  laid  himself  down  to  sleep, 
and  sublime  peace  of  soul  evidenced  itself  in  the 
already  transfigured  countenance  of  the  hero  in 
the  faith.  He  might  also  have  doubted,  as  well 
as  we,  whether  he  should  live  to  see  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  following  Wednesday. 

His  weakness  from  this  time  increased  more 
and  more,  and  convulsive  feelings  manifested 
themselves,  so  that  we  frequently  thought  the 
moment  of  suffocation  had  arrived.  Heart  rend- 
ing was  the  sight  of  the  venerable  old  man, 
when  his  breath  failed  him ; — he  folded  his 
hands,  lifted  up  his  eyes  towards  heaven,  sup- 
posing he  would  never  again  enjoy  the  vital 
air.  We  had  frequently  to  witness  this  distress- 
ing and,  to  us,  terrific  appearance  of  suffoca- 
tion ;  and  we  could  only  pray  that  God  would 
alleviate  his  passage  home.  When  the  severe 
attacks  were  repeated,  he  exclaimed ,  "  Lord, 
receive  me  into  thy  everlasting  habitations !" 
And  once,  when  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  strug- 
gle for  breath,  in  consequence  of  the  water  in 
his  chest,  he  stretched  out  his  arms  upwards, 
and  exclaimed,  "Away,  away!"  Meanwhile 
his  dry  and  languishing  gums  were  constantly 
refreshed  by  reviving  liquids,  and  his  love  for 
cleanliness  and  order  was  perceptible  even  till 
his  end.  At  another  time  he  exclaimed  during 
the  tormenting  spasm,  "  Strength,  0  thou  Con- 
queror of  death !"  All  this  he  uttered  with  a 
weak  but  affecting  tone  of  voice,  whilst  his  looks 
lingered  upon  the  various  members  of  his  fami- 
ly who  surrounded  his  bed,  and  whom  his  ex- 
alted example  of  patience  and  fortitude  in  this 
continuous  mortal  conflict  could  not  but  incite 
to  prayer.  And  whenever  the  one  or  the  other 
of  us  found  himself  obliged  to  leave  the  room, 
in  the  course  of  waiting  upon  him,  and  in  the 
anxiety  to  present  their  dying  parent  with  every 
refreshing  and  strengthening  remedy,  he  looked 
anxiously  after  him,  and  occasionally  said,  "  Let 
no  one  go  away." 

Thus  did  the  venerable  old  man  struggle  for 
several  hours  with  dissolving  nature,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  distant  rays  from  the  kingdom  of 
light  encircled  his  dignified  countenance,  and 
imparted  to  him  strength  for  the  conflict.  Then 


I  when  he  saw  us  standing  mournfully  around 
•  him,  and  perceived  our  sorrow  for  him,  he  said, 
"  Have  patience."  Later  in  the  forenoon,  he 
saw  one  of  his  friends,  who  was  a  clergyman, 
looking  in  at  the  door,  whom  he  greeted  with  a 
friendly  look  ;  and  when  the  latter  stepped  up 
to  his  bedside,  and  expressed  his  thoughts,  say- 
ing, "  He  who  suffered  on  the  cross  enables  you 
to  overcome,"  he  replied,  "  Certainly,  I  do  not 
doubt  of  it."  And  when  the  former  pronounced 
the  following  words — 

"  How  shall  I  feel,  O  God  of  grace, 

When  I  ascend  to  worlds  unknown, 
And  see  thee  with  unveiled  face, 
And  worship  at  thy  glorious  throne  !" 

he  also  assented  to  them  with  a  "Yea  and 
Amen  !" 

But  the  solemn  and  mournful  moment  now 
gradually  approached.  The  far-advanced  Chris- 
tian, like  his  Redeemer,  was  to  drink  the  cup 
of  tribulation  to  the  very  dregs,  as  a  glorious 
testimony  of  faith  to  the  world.  And  it  was 
the  middle  of  the  holy  week.  He  went,  with 
his  Saviour,  to  meet  death  and  victory.  On  be- 
holding his  countenance  beaming  with  affection 
and  dignity,  one  could  have  exclaimed,  "  O 
Death,  where  is  thy  sting  !  0  grave,  where  is 
thy  victory  !  But  thanks  be  unto  God,  who 
hath  given  him  the  victory,  through  his  Lord 
Jesus  Christ." 

He  continually  sought  us  out,  one  after  the 
other,  with  his  benign  and  solemn  look,  and 
once  exclaimed,  "  Continue  in  prayer  ;"andwe 
ceased  not. 

He  refreshed  his  languishing  lips  a  few  times 
more  with  cooling  drinks,  until  at  length  he 
said,  "  It  is  enough;  no  more  will  go  down!" 
Several  times  he  stammered  forth  supplicating 
expressions,  when  suffering  from  convulsive  at- 
tacks, to  the  great  Consummator,  such  as, 
"  Lord,  cut  short  the  thread  of  life  !"  and  "  Fa- 
ther, receive  my  spirit !"  and  then  we  thought 
we  heard  him  breathe  his  last.  However,  his 
vigorous  constitution  recovered  itself  a  little  ; 
he  prepared  himself  for  the  approaching  mortal 
blow  by  stretching  himself  out  at  full  length, 
and  what  he  otherwise  regarded  as  necessary : 
then  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  picture  of  the  infant 
Jesus,  which  hung  opposite  to  him  ;  and  now 
his  eyes  failed,  and  he  closed  them  with  all  the 
power  of  bodily  and  mental  strength.  We  stood 
breathless,  and  continued  in  prayer,  while  con- 
vulsion fearfully  distorted  the  features  of  the 
sufferer.  Once — and  a  second  time — it  seemed 
as  if  evil  spirits  sought  to  discompose  his  noble 
mien  ;  but  behold  !  the  dignified  traits  of  his 
sublime  countenance  returned  to  their  dignity 
and  benignity,  and  heavenly  purity  perfectly 
presented  itself  to  our  gazing  eyes ;  and  when 
at  noon-tide  the  sun  shone  most  cheeringly,  his 
breath  departed,  and  the  Christian  had  over- 
come ;  in  faith  was  his  victory. 

There  is  sorrow  on  earth  for  the  departed 
benefactor,  counsellor,  friend,  and  incomparable 
father.  Father  Stilling  is  lamented,  even  in  the 
most  distant  countries  ;  but  in  heaven  there  is 
joy  amongst  the  blessed,  and  an  unceasing  song 
of  praise  before  God  ascends  from  his  beatified 
spirit  ! 


THE  END. 


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OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 


From  Frazer's  Magazine. 
"  This  book  is  the  most  delightful  in  the  whole  course  of 
German  literature.    It  is  equal,  without  being  an  allegory, 
to  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

TaiVs. 

11  Why  has  a  work  so  long  been  withheld,  or  overlooked, 
which  only  requires  to  be  known  to  make  its  way  to  the 
t wärest  and  soundest  portion  of  the  true  old  heart  of  England, 
and  to  keep  its  place  on  our  parlour  shelves,  somewhere  be- 
tween the  '  Memoirs  of  Oberlin,'  and  those  of  our  own  '  Vic- 
ar of  Wakefield  V  This  may  seem  high  praise  ;  but  it  is 
as  highly  merited.  Let  us  conclude  with  hearty  thanks  to 
Mr.  Jackson,  who  has  given  us  a  book  from  the  German, 
which  ought  to  become  extensively  popular,  and  which  we 
trust  will  long  continue  to  be  admired  by  English  readers, 
from  its  delightful  affinity  with  all  that  is  felt  to  be  the 
finer  parts  of  our  best  national  characteristics." 

Metropolitan. 

"  The  first  part  of  this  book  is  exquisitely  pastoral ;  and 
the  beautiful  simplicity  of  nature  was  never  made  to  appear 
more  beautiful  than  it  does  in  the  unsophisticated  charac- 
ters of  the  Stilling  family.  From  his  youth  upward,  Hein- 
rich seems  to  have  been  marked  by  the  hand  of  God  as  one 
chosen  to  vindicate  his  ways,  and  to  show  how  a  true  Chris- 
tian could  bear  up  against  all  evils,  pass  unscathed  through 
all  trials,  and  meet,  with  pious  resignation,  all  tribulations. 
It  is  a  book  for  the  serious,  and  to  make  the  thoughtless  be- 
come so." 

Evangelical. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  remarkable  production  ;  incident  and  di- 
alogue are  wrought  up  together,  in  a  manner  strongly  re- 
sembling the  composition  of  romance  :  yet  we  cannot  doubt 
the  truth  of  the  narrative.  The  story  is  simple  as  the  Pil- 
grim's Progress,  and  fascinating  as  Robinson  Crusoe." 

Monthly  Repository. 
u  The  book  is  one  of  that  species,  the  enjoyment  of  which 
both  implies  and  produces  good  in  the  reader.  It  resembles 
those  simple  scenes  in  nature,  the  charm  of  which  is  sent 
home  to  the  heart  by  the  universal  power  of  nature,  and 
fixes  itself  there  more  firmly  than  can  all  the  violence  of  tor- 
rent, precipice,  and  tempest.  An  indescribable  interest 
pervades  the  volume." 

Printing  Machine. 
"  This  is  a  book  not  to  be  talked  about,  but  to  be  fallen 
in  love  with,  and  one,  therefore,  rather  for  readers  than  for 
critics.  It  is  like  a  beautiful  human  countenance,  formed 
to  take  the  hearts  of  all  beholders,  but  which  yet  no  one 
ever  became  enamoured  of  from  the  truest  and  liveliest 
description.  The  book  is  altogether  one  of  the  most  de- 
lightful we  have  ever  read.  On  the  whole,  perhaps,  in  the 
interest  it  excites,  and  the  hold  it  takes  of  the  mind,  it  re- 
minds us  as  much  of  the  effect  of  Robinson  Crusoe  as  of  any 
other  narrative  we  know  ;  but  the  two  differ  in  this,  that 
whereas  Defoe's  work  gives  to  fiction  all  the  life  and  force 
of  fact,  this  charms  us  by  making  fact  as  interesting  and 
poetical  as  fiction.  But  in  Stilling's  life,  the  representation, 
if  less  rich  and  diversified,  has  perhaps  even,  from  its  great- 
er simplicity  and  more  perfect  unity,  that  which  insinuates 
itself  deeper  into  the  heart.  This  is  a  mere  story  of  ordi- 
nary life,  but  told  by  an  extraordinary  mind,  which  sheds 
^ver  it  of  its  own  beauty,  and  makes  its  stoniest  places  to 
olossom  like  the  rose.  We  feel  that  we  have  met  with  an 
honest  book,  a»  we  might  feel  after  having  made  acquaint- 
ance with  a  man,  that  we  had  found  in  him  a  noble  na- 
ture. That  simplicity  of  spirit  which  is  not  ignorance,  but 
the  highest  wisdom,  is  spread  over  every  page  of  the  book 
like  sunlight." 

Spectator. 

u  Heinrich  Stilling  contains  a  complete  picture  of  German 
lif*  as  exhibited  among  the  better  classes  of  the  peasantry. 
It  also  presents  us  with  a  picture  of  a  singular  and  power- 
ful, if  not  a  first-rate  mind,  and  with  the  struggles  its  own- 
•r  underwent  in  the  pursuit  of  learning." 

Literary  Gazette. 
u  A  more  perfect  specimen  of  a  style  of  writing  peculiar 
to  Germany  has  never  yet  received  an  English  translation. 
U  it  therefore  a  literary  curiosity." 


Athenäum. 

"As  a  book  of  genuine  and  unaffected  character,  this 
biography  has  been  rarely  surpassed.    The  third  volume 
closes  a  biography  which,  for  its  truth  and  simplicity,  should 
be  acceptable  to  all,  whatsoever  be  their  sect  or  party." 
Sun. 

u  The  first  part  of  the  book  is  strictly  a  prose  pastoral,  ad- 
hering closely  to  nature,  and  furnishing  the  reader  with  de- 
lightful specimens  of  the  better  class  of  German  peasantry. 
The  characters  of  the  author's  family,  and  the  descriptions 
of  his  own  early  wanderings  and  studies,  are  given  with  a 
minuteness  to  which  nothing  but  their  extreme  beauty  and 
delicacy  could  reconcile  us  ;  but,  indeed,  Stilling,  like  our 
own  Goldsmith,  adorns  everything  he  touches— so  fertile  is 
his  fancy,  and  so  picturesque  his  power  of  narration.  It  is 
greatly  to  his  credit,  too,  that  though  his  book  is  impregna- 
ted with  a  strong  religious  feeling,  and  his  scriptural  allu- 
sions are  incessant,  there  is  no  cant  or  affectation  of  supe- 
rior virtue  about  him.  Piety,  in  his  estimation,  is  a  thing 
to  feel,  not  to  talk  about ;  hence  he  recommends  himself  to 
all  classes  of  readers.  *  *  *  But  the  main  charm  of  this 
book  is  its  unaffectedness,  in  which  quality  it  may  vie  even 
with  the  Robinson  Crusoe  of  Defoe." 

Conversations  Lexicon.    English  Edition,  Glasgow,  vol.  iv., 
p.  273. 

"  His  celebrated  work  is  incomparable.  He  relates  with, 
modesty  and  simplicity  the  way  in  which  his  life  was  pass- 
ed among  the  classes  of  people  less  favoured  by  extensiv» 
gifts  of  fortune  ;  and  his  pious  and  pure  heart  discloses  it 
self  so  unaffectedly  and  involuntarily,  and  the  style  is  at 
the  same  time  so  excellent,  that  the  work  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  among  the  German  classics." 

Christian  Observer,  Feb.,  1836. 

"  The  translation,  and  not  least  that  of  the  poetry,  is  well 
executed.  Jung,  or,  as  he  is  more  commonly  called,  Stilling, 
was  a  truly  devout  man,  and  unwearied  in  his  labours  to  stem 
the  torrent  of  vice  and  infidelity  that  broke  in  upon  his  na 
tive  land. 

Penny  Cyclopaedia. 
"  It  was  at  Gogthe's  suggestion  that  he  wrote  his  inter- 
esting Autobiography,  to  whom  he  had  often  related  it.  As 
a  writer  he  was  very  popular." 

EXTRACTS  FROM  FOREIGN  NOTICES. 
From  Goethe's  Autobiography. 
"  Among  the  new-comers,  there  was  one  who  particularly 
interested  me  ;  his  name  was  Jung,  and  is  the  same  who 
was  afterward  known  under  the  appellation  of  Stilling.  On 
becoming  more  intimately  acquainted  with  him,  he  was 
found  to  possess  a  sound  understanding,  which,  reposing 
upon  the  mind,  suffered  itself  to  be  governed  by  inclinations 
and  passions  ;  and  from  this  very  mind  arose  an  enthusiasm 
for  all  that  is  good,  right,  and  true,  in  the  utmost  possible 
purity :  for  his  course  of  life  had  been  very  simple,  and  yet 
had  abounded  with  events,  and  a  manifold  activity.  The- 
element  of  his  energy  was  an  impregnable  faith  in  God,  and 
in  an  assistance  immediately  proceeding  from  Him,  which 
obviously  justified  itself  in  an  uninterrupted  provision,  and 
an  infallible  deliverance  from  every  distress,  and  ev°ry  evil. 
Jung  had  experienced  numerous  instances  of  r'.,s  kind  in 
his  life,  and  they  had  recently  been  frequenth  repeated  ;  so 
that  though  he  led  a  frugal  life,  yet  it  was  without  care  and 
with  the  greatest  cheerfulness  ;  and  he  applied  hfmself  most 
diligently  to  his  studies,  although  he  could  not  reckon  upon 
any  certain  subsistence  from  one  quarter  of  a  year  to  an- 
other. I  urged  him  to  WHITE  his  life,  and  he  promised 
to  do  so." 

Mathison's  Letters,  Part  I. 
"  Stilling,  far  from  throwing  too  brilliant  a  Tight  upon  the 
picture  of  his  life,  has,  on  the  contrary,  placed  many  things, 
and  invariably  those  which  are  precisely  the  most  honour- 
able to  his.  spirit  and  his  heart,  in  a  dubious  and  uncertain 
light.  He  has  preserved  in  it  many  an  excellent  popular 
ballad." 

Conversations  Lexicon, 
u  He  has  described  the  greatest  part  of  his  life,  without 
fictitious  embellishments,  in  the  celebrated  work,  '  Heinrich 
Stilling's  Childhood  Vouthful  Years,  and  Wanderings,'  ia 
a  manner  which  co  i  pletely  corresponds  with  his  mental 
and  piously  poetic  character  " 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW-YORK, 

HAVE  NOW  READY,  A  REVISED  EDITION  OF 

WEBSTER'S  DICTIONARY 

OF  THE 

ENGLISH  LANGUAGE, 

CONTAINING 

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Price  $3  50,  Sheep. 


RECOMMENDATIONS, 


This  volume  is  designed  to  be  a  complete  defining  and 
pronouncing  dictionary  for  general  use.  With  reference  to 
the  first  object,  it  embraces  a  much  larger  proportion  of  Dr. 
Webster's  great  work,  than  is  usual  in  abridgment!  of  this 
kind,  comprising  more  than  half  the  matter  of  the  two  ori- 
ginal quartos.  With  reference  to  the  second  object,  import- 
ant additions  have  been  made  from  other  sources,  which 
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in  our  language  ;  embracing,  as  it  does,  not  only  the  pro- 
nunciation of  English  words,  but  of  Latin,  Greek,  and 
Scripture  Proper  Names.  Being  formed  with  these  views, 
U  contains : 

1st.  All  the  words  which  are  found  in  the  American  Dic- 
tionary, with  numerous  additions  from  other  quarter*. 

2d.  A12  the  definitions  of  the  original  work,  with  all  the 
shades  of  meaning  as  there  given,  expressed  in  the  author's 
own  language,  though  to  some  extent  in  abridged  terms. 
The  plan,  however,  has  been  to  give  the  definitions,  espe- 
cially of  synonymous  words,  with  great  fu'hiess  ;  so  that  this 
•work  is  a  substitute,  to  a  great  extent,  tor  a  book  of  syno- 
nyms. 

3d.  A  complete  system  of  English  Pronunciation,  every 
word  being  so  marked,  as  to  exhibit  the  power  of  each  let- 
ter, and  the  proper  place  of  the  accent,  at  a  single  glance. 

4th.  A  synopsis  of  words  of  disputed  pronunciation.  This 
enables  the  reader  to  examiue  for  himself,  as  to  doubtful 
points.  About  nine  hundred  words  are  given  in  the  synop- 
sis, with  the  decisions  of  seven  distinguished  writers  on 
English  orthoepy. 

5th.  The  whole  of  Walker's  Key  to  the  Pronunciation  of 
Latin,  Greek,  and  Scripture  Proper  Names.  This  is  the 
sole  and  acknowledged  standard  on  these  subjects,  both  in 
England  and  America.  When  printed  by  itself,  this  work 
makes  a  volume  of  nearly  three  hundred  pages,  8vo. 

Of  the  numerous  recommendations  of  the  original  work 
and  the  abridgment,  the  following  only  can  be  here  given 
From  officers  of  Yale  and  Middlebury  Colleges,  and  of  the 
Andover  Theological  Institution. 

"  The  merits  of  Dr.  Webster's  American  Dictionary  of  the 
English  language  are  very  extensively  acknowledged.  We 
regard  it  as  a  great  improvement  on  all  the  works  which 
have  preceded  it :  the  definitions  have  a  character  of  dis- 
crimination, copiousness,  perspicuity,  and  accuracy,  not 
found,  we  believe,  in  any  other  dictionary  of  the  English 
language." 

From  Rev.  Dr.  Wayland,  President  of  Brown  University. 

"  It  gives  mo  pleasure  to  state,  that  I  have  made  use  of 
your  quarto  or  octavo  dictionary,  ever  since  the  time  of  their 
publication  ;  and  that  for  copiousness,  for  exactitude  of 
definition,  and  adapledness  to  the  present  state  of  litera- 
ture and  science,  they  seem  to  me  to  be  the  most  valuable 
works  of  the  kind  that  1  have  ever  seen  in  our  language."' 

From  Dr.  Chapin,  President  of  Columbia  College,  D.  C. 

u  1  am  prepared,  after  protracted  and  careful  examination, 
to  say  that,  in  my  judgment,  the  dictionary  of  Noah  Webster 
possesses  unrivaled  merit." 

From  Hon.  Judge  Story. 

M 1  have  had  occasion  to  use  and  examine  Dr  Webster's 
quarto  dictionary,  and  the  abridgment  of  it  by  Mr.  Worces- 
ter Each  of  them  appears  to  nie  to  be  executed  with  great 
caie,  learning,  7  id  ability ." 


From  Dr.  Fisk  and  other  officers  of  the  Wesleyan  Univertttft 
Middletown,  Ct. 
"  We  have  seen  and  examined  your  American  Dictionary, 
and  we  think  it  unrivaled  by  any  work  of  the  kind  in  th* 
English  language." 

From  the  Medical  Faculty  of  Yale  College,  and  other  distin 
guished  physicians. 

"  The  subscribers  having  examined  Dr.  Webster's  quarto 
and  octavo  dictionaries,  take  pleasure  in  expressing  our  ap 
probation  of  these  works.  The  definitions,  the  most  import- 
ant part  of  such  works,  as  to  practical  purposes,  are  full 
and  correct,  and  the  vocabulary  is  by  far  the  most  extensive 
that  has  been  published  ;  indeed,,  it  is  so  complete  as  to  be 
a  substitute  for  all  other  dictionaries  of  the  language." 
From  the  Rev.  T.  H.  Gallaudet,  late  Principal  of  the  Amer- 
ican Deaf  and  Dumb  Asylum. 

"  I  have  no  hesitation  in  sa;  ;ng,  that  Dr.  Webster's  Eng 
lish  Dictionary  is  decidedly  the  best  with  which  1  am  ac* 
quamted." 

Similar  recommendations  have  been  given  by  more  thai 
a  hundred  members  of  Congress,  and  by  various  conven 
tions  of  literary  men  and  teachers. 

FOREIGN  TESTIMONIALS. 
From  the  Cambridge  Independent  Press. 

"When  this  work  is  as  well  known  in  Britain  as  it  is  i*, 
America,  it  will  supersede  every  other  book  of  the  kind  im 
the  same  department  of  letters.  Its  excellence  is  obvioua 
and  indisputable." 

From  the  Dublin  Literary  Gazette. 

"Dr.  Webster's  knowledge  of  languages  appears  to  ba 
extensive,  and  his  researches  for  authorities  to  establish  the 
meaning  of  words,  not  to  be  met  with  in  other  dictionaries, 
numerous.  The  introduction  of  technical  and  scientific 
terms  is  a  very  valuable  addition  to  a  general  dictnuiary. 
The  notation  adopted  by  him  for  expressing  the  true  sound 
of  the  vowels,  is  much  simpler  than  that  introduced  b? 
Sheridan,  and  followed  by  Walker." 

From  the  Examiner.  ' 

"  The  veteran  Webster's  work  is  new  to  this  country  ;  but, 
as  far  as  we  can  judge,  it  seems  to  justify  the  highly  favour- 
able character  it  has  long  maintained  in  America  ;  and  our 
view  is  corroborated  by  that  of  a  learned  friend  and  critic, 
who  does  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  it  is  the  best  and  most 
useful  dictionary  of  the  English  language  that  he  has  ever 
seen." 

From  the  Sun. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  refer  to  any  one  page,  without  disco»» 
ering  that  Dr.  Webster  is  a  capital  etymologist.  His  deri- 
vations are  exceedingly  just,  and  his  explanations  of  term!? 
are  full  without  be  ng  redundant." 

From  i,."  Aberdeen  Chronicle. 

"  We  beg  to  call  the  attention  of  our  readers  to  the  repnh- 
licatinn  of  this  work,  the  s;i"reme  excellence  nf  which  imo 
obvious,  that  it  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  enlarge  on  ita 
ments." 

Extended  critiques  <m  the  work,  confirming  these  views, 
have  appeared  in  the  Westminster  Review,  and  the  Scion 
tific  Journal  of  Professor  Jameson  of  Edinburgh. 


"  Books  that  you  may  carry  to  the  fire,  and  hold  readily  in  your  hand 

ARE  THE  MOST  USEFUL  AFTER  ALL.  A  MAN  WILL  OFTEN  LOOK  AT  THEM,  AND  BE 
TEMPTED  TO  GO  ON,  WHEN  HE  WOULD  HAVE  BEEN  FRIGHTENED  AT  BOOKS  OF  A  LAR 
GER  SIZE,  AND  OF  A  MORE  ERUDITE  APPEARANCE."  Dr.  JollHSOTl. 


HARPER'S  FAMILY  LIBRARY, 

Now  comprising  171  vols.  18mo,  abundantly  illustrated  by  Maps,  Portraits,  and  En- 
gravings. Price,  neatly  and  uniformly  bound  in  muslin  gilt,  $75  70.  Each  work  sold 
separately. 


Nos  1,  2,  3. — Milman's  History  of  the 
Jews 

4,  5.— Lockl'art's  Life  of  Napoleon  Bo- 
naparte. 

6.  — Southey's  Life  of  Nelson. 

7.  — William's  Life  of  Alexander  the 
Great. 

€,  74.— Natural  History  of  Insects. 

9.  — Gait's  Life  of  Byron. 

10.  — Bush's  Life  of  Mohammed. 

— Scott's  Letters  on  Demonology  and 
Witchcraft. 
i2,  13.— Gleig's  History  of  the  Bible. 

14.  — Discovery  and  Adventure  in  the 
Polar  Seas  and  Regions.  By  Les- 
lie, Jameson,  and  Murray. 

15.  — Croly's  Life  of  George  IV. 

16.  — Discovery  and  Adventure  in  Afri- 
ca. By  Jameson,  Wilson,  and  Mur- 
ray. 

17.  18,  19,  66,  and  67— Cunningham's 
Painters  and  Sculptors. 

20.  — James's  History  of  Chivalry  and 
the  Crusades. 

21,  22.— Bell's  Life  of  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots. 

23.  - Russell's  Egypt. 

24.  — Fletcher's  History  of  Poland. 

25.  — Festivals,  Games,  and  Amuse- 
ments.   By  Horace  Smith. 

26.  — Brewster's  Life  of  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton. 

27.  — Russell's  History  of  Palestine. 
26- — Memes's  Memoirs  of  the  Empress 

Josephine. 

29.  — The  Court  and  Camp  of  Bona- 
parte. 

30.  — Lives  and  Voyages  of  Drake, 
Cavendish,  and  Dampier. 

.21. — Barrow's  Description  of  Pitcairn's 
Island,  and  Account  of  the  Mutiny  of 
the  Ship  Bounty. 

32,  72,  84.— Turner's  Sacred  History 
of  the  World. 

33,  34. — Mrs.  Jameson's  Memoirs  of 
Female  Sovereigns. 

35,  36.— The  Landers' Travels  in  Afri- 
ca, and  Discovery  of  the  Source  and 
Termination  of  the  Niger. 

37.  —  Abercrombie  on  »he  Intellectual 
Powers. 

38,  39,  40  —  St.  John's  Lives  of  Cele- 
brated Travellers. 

41,  42.— Lord  Dover's  Life  of  Frederic 
the  Great. 

43,  44.— S medley's  Sketches  from  Ve- 
netian History. 

45,  46. — Thatcher's  Lives  of  the  In- 
dians. 

47,  48,  49. — Account  of  British  India. 
By  Murray,  Wilson,  Greville,  Ains- 
lie,  Rhind,  Jameson,  Wallace,  and 
Dalrvmple. 

50.  —  Brewster's  Letters  on  Natural 
Magic. 

51,  52.— Taylor's  History  of  Ireland- 

53.  —  Discovery  on  the  more  Northern 
Coasts  ul  America.  By  P.  F.  Tyt- 
ler. 

54.  — Humboldt's  Travels.    By  Mac- 

gillivruy. 

55.  56.— Euler's  Letters  on  Natural 
Philosophy.  Edited  by  Brewster  and 
tiritu'itin. 

57.  —  Mn, lie's  Popular  Guide  to  the 
Observation  of  Nature 


58.  — Abercrombie's  Philosophy  of  the 
Moral  Feelings. 

59.  — Dick  on  the  Improvement  of  So- 
ciety by  the  Diffusion  of  Knowledge. 

60.  — James's  History  of  Charlemagne. 

61.  — Russell's  History  of  Nubia  and 
Abyssinia. 

62.  63.— Russell's  Life  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well. 

64.  — Montgomery's  Lectures  on  Poetry, 
Literature,  &c. 

65.  — Barrow's  Life  of  Peter  the  Grea_t. 

66.  67.— Lives  of  Painters  and  Sculp- 
tors, Vols.  IV.  and  V. 

68,  69. — Crichtou's  History  of  Arabia. 

70.  — Fraser's  History  of  Persia. 

71.  — Combe  on  the  Principles  of  Phys- 
iology applied  to  the  Preservation  of 
Health,  -fee. 

72.  — Turner's  Sacrod  History  of  the 
W-  ,d,  Vol.  V 

"     ¥  r  ~*«1J>  History  of  the  Barbary 

*,'     '^»tural  History  of  Insects,  Vol.  II. 
75,  *<5.-  Paulding's  Life  of  Washing  ■ 
ton 

77.  — Ticknor's  Philosophy  of  Living. 

78.  — Physical  Condition  of  the  Earth 
and  its  most  remarkable  Phenomena 
By  Higgins. 

79.  — History  of  Italy:  translated  b) 
Greene. 

80.  81.— The  Chinese.    By  Davis. 

82.  — History  of  the  Circumnavigatior 
of  the  Globe. 

83.  — Dick's  Celestial  Scenery. 

84.  — Turner's  Sacred  History  of  the 
World,  Vol.  III. 

85.  — Gri scorn's  Animal  Mechanism  and 
Physiology. 

86.  87,  88,  89,  90,  91.— Tytler's  Uni- 
versal History:  continued  by  Dr. 
Nares. 

92,  93.— Life  of  Franklin,  by  Himself; 
and  a  Selection  from  his  Writings. 

94,  95. — Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under 
Difficulties— its  Pleasures  and  Re- 
wards. 

96,  97.  — Paley's  Natural  Theology: 
edited  by  Brougham,  Bell,  and  Pot- 
t«r. 

98.  — Natural  History  of  Birds. 

99.  — Dick's  Sidereal  Heavens. 

100.  — Upham  on  Imperfect  and  Disor- 
dered Mental  Action. 

101.  102.— Murray's  History  of  British 
America. 

103.  — Lossing's  History  of  the  Fine 
Arts. 

104.  — Natural  History  of  Quadrupeds. 

105.  — Life  and  Travels  of  Mungo  Park. 

106.  — Dana's  Two  Years  before  the 
Mast. 

107.  108.— Parry's  Four  Voyages  for 
the  Discovery  of  a  Northwest  Pas- 
sage. 

109,  1 10.— Life  of  Doctor  Johnson ;  with 
a  Selection  from  his  Works. 

111.  — Bryant's  Selection  from  Amer- 
ican Poets. 

112,  1 1 3.  —  Halleck's  Selection  from 
British  Poets. 

114,  115,  llfi,  117,  118.— Keightley's 

Ilistorv  of  England. 
119,  120.'— Hale's  History  of  the  United 

States. 


121,  122.-Irving's  Life  of  Goldsmith, 
and  Selection  from  his  Writings. 

123,  124.— Distinguished  Men  of  Mod- 
ern Times. 

125.  — Renwick's  Life  of  De  Witt  Clin- 
ton. 

126,  127. — Mackenzie's  Life  of  Commo- 
dore Perry. 

128.  — Life  and  Travels  of  Bruce :  by 
Sir  Francis  B.  Head. 

129.  — Renwick's  Lives  of  John  Jay  and 
Alexander  Hamilton. 

130.  — Brewster's  Lives  of  Galileo,  Ty- 
cho  Brahe,  and  Kepler. 

131.  — History  of  Iceland,  Greenland, 
and  the  Faroe  Islands. 

132.  — Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Jap- 
anese. 

133.  — Dwight's  History  of  Connecti- 
cut. 

134.  135.— Ruins  of  Ancient  Cities:  by 
Charles  Bucke. 

136,  137. — History  of  Denmark,  Nor- 
way, and  Sweden  :  by  Cnchton  and 
Wheaton. 

138.  — Camp  on  Democracy. 

139.  — Lanman's  Michigan. 

140.  — Fenelon's  Lives  of  the  Ancient 
Philosophers.  • 

141.  142.— Count  Segur's  History  of 
Napoleon's  Expedition  to  Russia. 

143,   144.  — History   of  Philosophy 
translated,  continued,  and  edited  by 
Rev.  Dr.  Henry. 

145.  —  Bucke's  Beauties,  Harmonies, 
and  Sublimities  of  Nature. 

146.  — Lieber's  Essays  on  Property  and 
Labour,  as  connected  with  Natural 
Law  and  the  Constitution  of  S<»ciety. 

147.  — White's  Natural  History  of  Sel- 
borne. 

H8.— Wrangell's  Expedition  to  Siberia 

i  nd  the  Polar  Sea. 
149    150.— Popular  Technology;  or, 

Piofessions  and  Trades.  By  Hazen. 
151,  152,  153.— Italy  and  the  Italian 

Islands.    By  Spalding. 
154,  155.— Lewis  and  Clarke's  Travel* 

West  of  the  Mississippi. 

156.  — Smith's  History  of  Education. 

157.  — Mesopotamia  and  Assyria.  By 
Fraser. 

158.  — Russell's  History  of  Polynesia 
or,  the  South  Sea  Islands. 

159.  —  Perilous  Adventures;  or,  Re 
markable  Instances  of  Courage,  Per 
severance,  and  Suffering. 

160.  — Constitutional  Jurisprudence  of 
the  United  States.    By  Dr.  Duer. 

161.  162,  163.  —  Belknap's  American 
Biography  ;  edited,  with  Notes,  by 
F.  M.  Hubbard. 

164.  — Natural  History  of  the  Elephant 

165.  — Potter's  Hand-book  for  Readers 
and  Students. 

166.  — Woman  in  America:  her  Moral 
and  Intellectual  Condition. 

167.  168.— Border  Wars  of  the  Revolu- 
tion ;  embracing  the  Life  of  Brant.  By 

W.  L.  Stone. 

169.  — Vegetable  Substances  used  for 
Food. 

170.  — Michelet's  Elements  of  Modern 
History  :  edited  by  Rev.  Dr.  Potter 

171.  — Bacon's  Essays,  and  Locke  on 
the  Understanding. 


9 


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